


Felix Culpa

by parenthetical



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Wincest - Freeform, spn: season four
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-02-14
Updated: 2009-03-11
Packaged: 2017-10-02 05:31:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 49,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/parenthetical/pseuds/parenthetical
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>People are dying in the town where Dean came back to life, and Dean's never been a big believer in coincidence.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written during Nano 2008. Set post-4.07 (It's The Great Pumpkin, Sam Winchester), but with some spoilers up to 4.10. Much love and thanks to my beloved Zooey_Glass for beta-reading, and to the lovely gestaltrose on LJ for Ameripicking. &lt;333

Pontiac, Illinois, wasn't exactly the _last _place Dean wanted to be, but it ranked pretty damn low on the list.

It was probably a stupid way to feel, but Dean reckoned he was entitled to cut himself some slack. After all, just down the road was the place where he'd woken up six feet under, and the only reason he hadn't been having constant nightmares about those first few minutes of realization (_buried alive_) was because the whole thing paled next to what had come before. Trying not to think about any of it went a lot smoother when he was far, far away.

Judging by Sam's grim silence beside him, Dean figured the place was getting to his brother too. Or more likely a combination of the place and the date - November 2nd wasn't a good day for anyone in their family. Then again, Sam had been kind of quiet for a few days now, ever since he'd come face to face with the angels. Dean wasn't sure if that was down to some kind of crisis of faith, or because Sam had used his powers to send the demon Samhain back to Hell even after Dean had asked him not to. That was still hanging between them: Dean knew he was going to have to try talking to Sam about it soon, but that conversation never seemed to get them anywhere but pissed off with each other.

Dean drove past the motel where he'd found Sam again (_and Ruby_, his traitorous mind added), because damned if he was going to get them a room there. It was bad enough being back in the area without staying at that goddamn motel. He pulled in at the Redforth Motel a few miles down the road instead, cautiously optimistic at the sight of the "Free wireless" sign.

Sam got out of the car without a word. Dean sighed and watched the stiff line of his brother's back as Sam headed for the office.

"Room nine," Sam said quietly when he returned a few minutes later, and Dean shifted the car over to park in front of their room.

The routine of settling in was familiar enough to relax the tension somewhat, and by the time they'd both showered Dean felt less like coffin walls were closing in around him, and Sam looked less like he was primed for an attack at any second. Dean laid down salt lines, not so much because he thought something was after them specifically, more because this was a date when he didn't believe in taking any chances.

Sam fired up the laptop, giving Dean a nod to confirm that they did indeed have wireless. Dean flopped down on the bed nearest the door. "So, talk me through this again."

Sam tapped a few keys, bringing up his notes. "Six weird deaths in the surrounding area in the past two months." He paused and looked up; Dean read the silent addition of _that we didn't already know about_ in his eyes. "Five men, one woman, wide range of ages, no obvious connection between them. The cops classified them all as suicides."

"But you think they're wrong," Dean prompted.

"So many suicides in such a short space of time?" Sam said. "I'm not buying it. Anywhere else, I probably wouldn't have looked twice, but here, when we know..." He trailed off.

Dean scrubbed a hand across his face. _Anywhere else, it might just be normal deaths, but not much chance of normal with the number of demons and angels and fucked-up Winchesters that have been around here lately_.

"Anyway," Sam hurried on, "they don't sound like normal suicides. This article says that the most recent victim, a Mr. Keswick, bled to death after hacking off the fingers of his left hand with a kitchen knife."

Dean grimaced. "Yeah, okay, there are easier ways to end it all. Fingers... I guess it could be a sacrifice, collecting body parts for use in a ritual, maybe."

"Maybe," Sam agreed. "That's the only case where the local newspaper has published details of exactly how the person died - we'll need to investigate to find out whether the rest follow the same pattern. The timing, though..."

"Yeah," Dean said heavily. "You didn't find any cases from before my big comeback?"

"No," Sam admitted. "But we just don't have enough information yet - I might not be seeing some deaths which fit the pattern because we don't really know what the pattern is."

"Fine, we'll check it out in the morning," Dean said. "Nowhere around here will be open at this time of night."

It was true, but not the whole truth. The whole truth had more to do with the date and his desire to keep them both behind the semi-safety of a thick line of salt for the evening. Preferably with vast quantities of alcohol to take the edge off.

"Yeah, okay," Sam said. He sounded tired as he powered down the laptop again. "Beer?"

Dean would have preferred something a bit stronger, but beer had the advantage that they didn't need to leave the room. "Yeah," he said, sitting up. He took his bottle from Sam and cracked the cap off with his ring. He took a long swallow, and tried not to think about demons or angels or the look on Mom's face when she'd told him she didn't want her children growing up the way he had.

"Shove over," Sam said, nudging him.

Dean frowned up at him, but moved over enough for Sam to sit next to him, their shoulders touching companionably. "Look, Sammy, not that I'm -"

"Shut up, Dean," Sam said, cutting him off without rancor. "Tell me about her."

Dean looked at his brother; he didn't need to ask who Sam was referring to. He wondered if Castiel would have sent Sam back in time with him if his brother hadn't been off with Ruby.

"She was amazing," he said finally. "A hunter, a good one - I told you she almost took me out. And a babe, too." He forced a grin. "Guess I got the good genes from her."

Sam elbowed him. "Tell me you didn't hit on Mom, dude, please."

Dean snorted. "And get my ass handed to me? No thanks."

He was painfully aware of the warmth of Sam's body pressed against his side. He'd _missed_ this, the two of them together, solid and unshakable. And though it made him think of other things - Sam's lips on his, hands pulling him closer - he'd missed this more. Things had changed while he was in Hell: Sam had changed, and Dean knew he had too. If Sam didn't want that any more, if it had been some way of dealing with Dean's time ticking down and now his brother had moved on, Dean could live with that. But _this_ Dean needed; he had been feeling off-balance ever since he'd come back and found things... different.

He concentrated on enjoying the comfortable closeness, and didn't let himself feel anything when Sam retreated to the other bed two beers later and turned off the lights.

* * *

"I gotta say, Agent Young, I don't know why the FBI's taking an interest in this case," the police chief said, leading the way to the morgue.

"There _have_ been an unusual number of odd deaths around here recently, wouldn't you say?" Sam pointed out.

"Maybe, but near all of them have been suicides," Chief Walsh said. "Clear-cut, believe me. There may have been a run of 'em recently, but it's just... one of those statistical spikes you get from time to time. A few weird accidents mixed in there too - six people were found dead a couple of months ago, eyes burned clear out of their skulls. Best we can figure, there must have been some kind of chemical incident at the diner where we found 'em. There haven't been any new cases since - unless the FBI thinks...?" He trailed off questioningly.

Sam exchanged a quick glance with Dean.

"No, no," Dean said reassuringly. "We've no reason to think that was anything other than a, um, tragic accident. It's the apparent suicides we're more interested in."

"Well, if you say so," Chief Walsh said, and pushed open the mortuary door. "Charles, these two gentlemen are from the FBI - Special Agents Young and Scott. They'd like to take a look at the Keswick corpse."

"Keswick?" the pathologist murmured in surprise, but he crossed to the bank of storage compartments, sliding out one tray. "Here you go. Jonathon Keswick, 64 years old. Sliced off all the digits on his left hand, died of bloodloss."

Sam studied the hand in question, swallowing down his revulsion - he'd seen worse, but it never really got much easier. Only jagged stumps were left on it. "Was the knife found?" he asked, keeping his voice neutral.

"One of his kitchen knives, found right beside the body," Chief Walsh said. "Only fingerprints on it were his."

"Did the autopsy turn up anything... unusual?" Dean asked.

"Not as such," Charles replied. "Nothing to indicate anything other than suicide."

"Isn't it a rather unusual way of committing suicide?" Sam probed.

"That it is," Charles agreed heartily. "But we've had a few similar cases round here recently - seems to be a bit of a copy-cat situation."

"Really?" Dean said. "Did all of the recent suicides kill themselves this way?"

"No, no," Chief Walsh said hastily. "Only a couple."

"Would it be possible for us to receive copies of the reports?" Sam asked. "On all the recent deaths, if you wouldn't mind."

The chief shrugged. "Sure thing. Don't imagine you'll find much in them to suggest anything but suicide, but you're welcome to them."

"Thank you," Sam said.

"You suggested these might be copy-cat cases," Dean said. "Is there any connection between the victims?"

Chief Walsh sighed. "Not that I know of. But this is a small town, gentlemen. It may be that they knew each other by sight, or shopped in the same places: a lot of people here do. And either way, fact is, there's nothing to indicate they were anything but suicides."

Sam took another quick look at the corpse, checking there weren't any unusual markings or symbols he'd missed, anything that might suggest Mr. Keswick had been killed as part of a ritual, but there was nothing obvious.

"Well, thank you for your assistance," he said politely, stepping back, shooting a quick glance at Dean to make sure his brother had seen all he needed too. "Could we maybe get copies of those files now?"

"Sure," Chief Walsh said, leading the way towards the door. "Catch you later, Charles."

"Oh, just one more thing," Dean asked as they headed back up the stairs. "The fingers Mr. Keswick cut off. Were they found?"

"Right next to the corpse," Chief Walsh confirmed. "All five of 'em."

Sam exchanged a meaningful look with Dean. _So much for the theory someone was collecting body parts for a ritual_.

* * *

Dean slapped the last file from his stack down on the bed and leaned back, letting his eyes slip shut as he rubbed his forehead with one hand.

_\- red and black, agony beyond what he'd thought possible -_

He snapped his eyes back open and drew in a sharp breath to calm himself.

"Headache?" Sam asked, looking at him with concern.

Dean forced a smile. "You know me - spending hours reading this shit isn't exactly my favorite pastime. We can't all be research addicts like you, Sammy."

Sam rolled his eyes, and Dean allowed himself a moment of relief that his brother had bought his line.

"Fine," Sam said. "The files I looked at, both victims died the same way as Mr. Keswick. They all amputated the fingers on their left hand and died from the resulting bloodloss. None of the fingers went missing, they were all found at the scene. The knives were found too - they all belonged to the victims, and it doesn't sound like there was anything unusual about them."

"Any pattern to the victims?" Dean asked.

"Nothing obvious that I can see," Sam said with a sigh. "Thomas Dunbar was thirty-five and a happily married father of two, worked at the local hospital. Simon Dunne was forty-eight and divorced, lived alone, worked at a factory down the road. Jonathon Keswick took early retirement a couple of years ago, his wife died a while before that. What about your files?"

"Leon Williams, forty-two, deep-throated his pistol in the middle of the night," Dean said. "Which, okay, might just be a normal suicide and not part of whatever pattern there is here that we're not seeing. Except for the fact that the next night his wife, Susan - you'll like this - carved her own eyes out with a kitchen knife."

"Dude," Sam said.

"Yeah," Dean agreed. "The other guy, uh..." He checked the name. "Yeah, Chester Welles - he washed down his supper with an entire bottle of bleach. Some real nice pictures in here if you want to see."

"I'll pass," Sam said with a grimace. "That's interesting about the husband and wife." He leaned back in his seat and pushed his hair back out of his eyes. Dean tried not to stare at the movement of his brother's throat as he swallowed. "What do you think? There's no obvious pattern to the dates, either, but I can't shake the feeling it can't just all be a coincidence."

"I've never been a big believer in coincidence," Dean said. "The way those three died, plus Susan Williams - that's enough of a pattern for me. Possession, maybe? Some demon's sick idea of a good time?"

"Maybe," Sam said. "Though I don't know, it's unusual for a demon to set out to kill so many hosts. A witch, maybe? Forcing these people to kill themselves?"

"That I could buy," Dean said, considering it. "Hard to see how a witch could have a grudge against so many unconnected people, so it would probably be for a ritual, right?"

"Six deaths - that we know of," Sam said thoughtfully. "That's a lot. It would have to be some ritual."

"So we check out the houses," Dean suggested. "See if we can find any hex bags."

Sam nodded. "Let's go."

* * *

Sam kept a close eye on his brother as they broke into Simon Dunne's apartment. They'd decided to start with the homes that would now be standing empty, to get some first impressions before they began dealing with relatives.

Dean seemed okay on the surface: no repeat - yet - of that moment back in the motel room. But Sam had added it to the list of recent incidents he was belatedly noticing, from Dean's reaction to that freaky Halloween mask to the way he'd startled awake while Sam was taking his turn at driving on the way to Pontiac. Tallying it all up, Sam was starting to come to the conclusion that Uriel had been telling him the truth and Dean did remember some of his time in Hell.

He didn't want to just assume, definitely not based on something Uriel had said - the angel obviously hated him, and now that Sam had met an angel for himself, he wouldn't put it past them to lie for their own reasons. The angels really hadn't been what he'd expected at all. So he hadn't wanted to take Uriel's word for it. And he still wasn't certain, but it _would_ go a long way towards explaining the way Dean had been acting. He wasn't ready to confront his brother about it yet, though - not least because he had a feeling that was what Uriel wanted.

The lock _snicked_ open and Sam followed Dean inside, closing the door carefully behind him and forcing his attention onto the matter at hand.

They did a quick sweep of the apartment, weapons at the ready, just to check that it was really empty. Then they started checking out the kitchen, where the man had died.

The blood had been cleaned up, but the floor was still stained, and after reading the file, Sam could picture how the scene had looked far more clearly than he'd have liked. He tried not to look at the stains, instead focusing on searching in the cupboards and behind the fridge, while Dean took the rest of the appliances and the walls.

"Nothing," Dean said eventually, his voice disgusted.

"Maybe it could be hidden in another room?" Sam suggested, unconvinced.

"Maybe," Dean said, sounding equally unconvinced. "But it's usually the room where the death occurred, right? That's where they have the strongest influence."

"Yeah," Sam agreed. "Even if there was a hex bag here, I guess the witch could have retrieved it by now. Simon Dunne died over a week ago."

"Or maybe there was no hex bag in the first place," Dean said. "Check the other rooms for sulfur, I'm going to scan for EMF."

Sam nodded, but he hadn't even made it out of the kitchen before the squeal of the EMF meter stopped him in his tracks.

"Woah," Dean said, and tilted the device so Sam could see the lights. "Check it out."

"So we're thinking a spirit?" Sam said, thinking aloud. "A ghost out for revenge - it would fit, assuming there's some connection with the victims."

Dean was methodically scanning the room, the meter emitting a particularly loud squeal every time he brought it close to the bloodstain. "Works for me," he said absently. He stepped through into next room, and Sam heard the noise of the meter grow a little fainter.

His brother reappeared a few minutes later, pocketing the meter. "There's one other hotspot, in the bedroom - probably where the spirit jumped him. Other than that, the kitchen is the focus."

"Makes sense," Sam said, looking up from the noticeboard he'd been studying.

"Anything there about why a ghost might have had it in for him?" Dean asked.

Sam shook his head. "Bills and reminders. Only thing that seems personal is a photo of what must be his daughter, but it looks like it was taken years ago."

"Don't suppose the daughter died recently?" Dean suggested without any real hope.

Sam shrugged. "Wasn't in the police file, but it shouldn't be too hard to find out. We should probably check out the other houses first, though, at least the empty ones - see if there's EMF there too."

* * *

They split up, in the end. Dean dropped Sam off at the Williams' house and drove to Mr. Keswick's place. It was the most recent scene, so Dean wasn't entirely surprised by the state of the kitchen. No one had cleaned it up yet, and the blood -

_blood red pain darkness_

\- brought back bad memories. He took a deep breath or two to steady himself, relieved that Sam wasn't there to see, then pulled out the EMF meter.

The way it squealed over the bloodstain was pretty much what he'd expected. He picked up more in the rest of the house than he'd expected based on the pattern in Dunne's apartment, though. Enough to make him hold his shotgun a little more to the ready, half-wondering if the spirit was still there.

But nothing attacked him. Dean tucked the EMF meter back into his pocket and took another look around the house, looking for any clues as to what connection there might have between Keswick and Dunne and the others. It was only when he was checking the drawers in the bedroom that he noticed the thin dusting of sulfur on top of it - far less than he'd expect from a demon normally, but clearly sulfur nonetheless. He hit the speed dial for Sam.

"Hey," he said without preamble. "Sulfur."

"...Damn," Sam said. "Where did you find it?"

"The bedroom," Dean said. He frowned, looking at the surface again. "It's weird, though, there's hardly any. I don't know, if it's a demon, maybe it doesn't have as bad a case of dandruff as the rest?"

Sam made a thoughtful sound. "Unless it's something other than a demon - or a different kind, or something? I don't know. Maybe it just passed through really quickly, too fast to leave much sulfur."

"But with enough time to turn this guy's hand into a sandwich with all the trimmings?" Dean said skeptically.

"Yeah, I got nothing," Sam conceded. "Huh, okay, traces of sulfur here too, but I see what you mean. I don't know, maybe Bobby will have an idea."

Dean dusted off his fingers and headed back down the stairs. "Yeah. I'm done here. Pick you up in five."

* * *

There was dinner, and pie to follow, and the combination went some way to relieving the unease Dean had been feeling since they'd started investigating the string of deaths. He relaxed back into the booth, feeling confident enough to kick Sam's feet under the table, warm and normal and brotherly. Sam kicked him back, aiming a little _too_ well, but Dean grinned instead of wincing.

Maybe things were going to work out okay after all.

"We should take another look at the files," Sam said, voice low enough not to be overheard in the chatter of the busy diner. "See if we can pin down the connection between the victims, do some research into their backgrounds."

"Research junkie," Dean muttered under his breath. Louder, he added, "You better not be suggesting a trip to the library at this time of night, dude."

"Nah," Sam said easily. "Got to save some of the fun for tomorrow, after all." He grinned.

Dean shook his head. There was a retort on the tip of his tongue - _I don't know where I went wrong with you, Sammy_ \- but the words twisted their meaning in his head before he could say them, and he swallowed them down instead. Sam eyed him a little oddly, but let it drop.

Back at the motel, Dean was the one to blur his eyes on the files again, while Sam set about researching the victims' backgrounds online, checking into their histories. Dean could see the importance of it, but it was tiring as hell, and there were only so many hours he could spend reading statements about how the victim had seemed _perfectly normal, maybe a little distracted, but I never would have thought... _before going out of his mind.

He stood up. _Better plan: going out of the room instead_.

"I need some air. And maybe a drink," he told Sam, who still hadn't looked up from his laptop. "You want to come?"

Sam did look up at that, with a slightly crooked smile. "Nah, I'll pass. Call me if anything comes up."

"Okay," Dean said, grabbing his wallet. He hesitated. It was stupid; it wasn't even like it was the first time he'd left Sam alone since their showdown about Ruby, wasn't like he thought Sam was going to rush off the moment his back was turned and do something crazy. It was just...

_Fuck this. Add 'getting laid' to that list_.

"It's okay," Sam added quietly. "I'll call if I find anything."

"You do that," Dean said, more emphatically than he meant to. He hesitated a moment longer, then slipped out the door.

It was dark outdoors already. It was things like that which kept catching Dean out. Knowing in theory that he'd been gone for four months was one thing, but getting his head around things like the fact that summer had been and gone and winter was just around the corner - that was another matter. It kept catching him by surprise all over again, every time he thought he'd _got_ it.

He took his time walking, keeping an eye out for a bar that looked like it stood a chance of offering music that wouldn't make his ears bleed, and maybe a quick hook-up to work off some issues. But he was in no rush. The chill in the air was soothing. Dean wasn't as keen on the heat now as he had been, before.

He glanced to the side as a car drove past too fast, engine roaring. It was instinctive to check the source of the unexpected sound, even when he didn't believe it was a threat.

The faint tingling of the palm-print on his shoulder clued him in even before he turned his head back. Castiel was walking next to him, his stride matching Dean's as easily as if he'd been there all along.

Dean inhaled sharply, but didn't say anything, just kept walking, shooting a glance at Castiel out of the corner of his eye. The angel was looking straight ahead, staring at, or maybe through, the street in front of them with an absent expression.

"So," Dean said after a few minutes, when his heartbeat had slowed again slightly, and he'd finally concluded that Castiel didn't seem to be in any rush to break the silence. "What's up this time? The deaths here, they connected to a Seal or something?"

"Not to my knowledge," Castiel said.

"Not to your _knowledge_?" Dean echoed. "You're telling me you don't _know_?"

"As I told you, I am not omniscient," Castiel said. "Not everything has been revealed to me. I don't know the nature of every one of the Seals."

Dean stared at him. "Oh, well, that's very reassuring."

"But my Father has not given me any further instructions concerning this town," Castiel continued, ignoring or oblivious to his sarcasm. "I believe it is unlikely that the deaths here are connected to a Seal."

As far as it went, Dean supposed that was good news. Not that it went very far at all. "Don't suppose you know what _is_ going on around here. We found sulfur, but I'm still not sure whether it's a demon behind the deaths or not."

"No," Castiel said simply. "I do not know. The deaths are not why I am here."

"Very helpful," Dean muttered under his breath. "In that case, what _are_ you doing here?"

"Talking to you," Castiel replied. Dean looked across at him again, convinced that he was deliberately choosing to be over-literal, but the angel's expression gave nothing away.

They walked on in silence for a while, and Dean went back to focusing on the cool air and the solidity of the ground under his feet. It was the sort of thing he'd never paid much attention to, before. _Before_. Now it felt like everything was divided into _before_ and _after_, and it was something he still hadn't managed to wrap his head round.

"You expect too much of yourself," Castiel remarked, as if Dean had spoken aloud. "You are human. And Hell is not something which can be experienced without it leaving a mark." He was studying Dean with the intent, focused attention that Dean had become familiar with.

Dean glared at him, because he'd really kind of appreciate it if everyone would stay out of his head, fuck you very much. "What the hell do you want?"

Castiel was still studying him with that same grave curiosity, ignoring Dean's obvious hostility. After a moment, though, he said, "I came to warn you."

Dean felt his heartrate pick up speed again. "About what?"

The angel looked away at last, gazing down the street. "To be careful."

Dean waited, but Castiel was silent. "Okay, you maybe feel like giving me a clue? Is something about to happen?"

"I do not know," Castiel said. "I'm not omn- "

"Not omniscient, yeah, I heard you the first time," Dean said.

"I cannot see the future," Castiel said. "This is not a... specific warning. But I am needed elsewhere, for a time. And I may not be able to come if you need me."

Dean stared at him. "It's not exactly like you normally make a habit of telling me when you're about to take off. What's going on?" _It's not like you normally make a habit of turning up to help us, either_, he thought. Castiel had made it pretty clear he had more important things to do than hover around watching over them - whether he and Sam managed to stay alive was none of his concern. Then again, Dean grudgingly admitted to himself that the angels had found the hex bag hidden in the motel room the other day, so maybe he wasn't being entirely fair.

"More of my brothers have died," Castiel said slowly. "Our numbers are finite. I am needed to protect one of the Seals Lilith is attempting to break."

Dean stopped walking to look at him properly. "You're going up against her?"

Castiel stopped too, and turned his head to meet Dean's gaze. "It may come to that; I do not know. My orders are to protect the Seal. She may choose to attack."

_You came to say goodbye_, Dean thought, and nodded slowly. He didn't know why it felt logical that the angel would bother to do so, but somehow it did. "Sounds like I should be the one telling you to be careful."

Something like a faint smile flickered across the angel's face. "Have faith, Dean." He looked over Dean's shoulder. "I believe this was your destination?"

Dean glanced back, caught sight of a bar behind him, exactly the kind he'd been looking for. "I guess -"

He cut off, not really surprised to find Castiel gone when he turned back. After all, it wasn't like the angel was going to go have a beer with him. And he guessed Castiel had said all he wanted to.

He could hear laughter coming from the bar, the faint sound of music, and for a moment he thought about going in and seeing if the bartender was hot. Partly because some part of him was convinced that Castiel wouldn't entirely approve, and damned if Dean was going to turn into some celibate, teetotal choirboy just because an angel had decided to take an interest in him.

But if he was honest with himself, the thought of a few drinks and a quick hook-up had lost most of its appeal.

Dean sighed and headed back the way he'd come.

* * *

Sam scrubbed a hand over his face and forced himself to concentrate on the screen again. He'd promised himself that he'd keep researching for another quarter of an hour, but after that he was going to call it a night. He wasn't sure if he'd be able to get any sleep with Dean gone, but he could at least try.

Learning to let Dean go was still a work in progress. Sam was just grateful (so far beyond grateful, and even if the angels had turned out to be dicks, he couldn't help but thank God) that he had Dean back. Things were still _off_ and different, but Sam could deal with things not being the way they were before. Dean was back, at least, and that was all that really mattered.

He scrolled down the page of Google hits, skimming it for anything important, and paused. Five minutes of research later, he was reaching for his cell phone, only to drop it again as the door swung open and Dean walked in.

"Hey," Sam said with some surprise. Dean hadn't been gone nearly as long as he'd have expected even for a few drinks, and he'd rather suspected Dean might be looking for more than that. "Good timing, I was just about to call you."

Dean shrugged off his jacket and tossed it on a chair. "Yeah? You found something?"

"Maybe," Sam said cautiously. "I'm not certain yet, I haven't found a _pattern _as such, but I think this could be relevant."

"Please, not more talking in riddles," Dean muttered. Sam frowned in confusion, but his brother waved it aside. "Tell me what you've got, Sam."

"Simon Dunne," Sam said, turning the laptop screen so Dean could see it. "He was convicted of child abuse in Michigan - served time and moved here afterwards."

Dean leaned in close over his shoulder to read the page for himself. Sam tried not to enjoy the closeness, knowing it was only due to the particularly intense focus Dean always got regarding threats to children.

"Sexual abuse," Dean said, his voice flat. "His daughter killed herself."

"Yeah," Sam said quietly. "Maybe her ghost is out for revenge."

Dean straightened and kicked the other chair back from the table with an understated violence that made Sam swallow hard. His brother sat down and rubbed his forehead. "Okay. Say I buy that - and that's definitely the part I can buy. What about the sulfur? The other deaths? And how did her ghost get here if she died in Michigan?"

"He had a picture of her on his noticeboard," Sam said, recalling the faded photo. "Maybe he brought something with him that belonged to her, and it's anchoring her here."

"But then why wait until now to kill him?" Dean asked, but Sam knew his brother's expression, knew he was thinking aloud, not arguing the point. "Why not kill the bastard years ago? Unless he'd started..."

"Maybe," Sam agreed, before his brother felt he needed to say the words. "But it could be anything, you know what ghosts are like." He paused. "The sulfur I don't get. We didn't even find it at all of the scenes we checked, did we? So - maybe it actually is a coincidence for once? We could be looking at two separate entities killing people here."

Dean eyed him skeptically. "You know damn well, Sam, 'Coincidence ain't a theory, it's the -'"

"'-lack of a theory', yeah, yeah, I remember," Sam finished for him. "Fine. I don't know what's up with the sulfur. As for the other victims -"

"No," Dean cut him off. He shook his head and met Sam's eyes. "If you're going where I think you're going with this, Sam, then 'victims' really isn't the word you're looking for."

Sam nodded slowly. "Well, we don't know yet. But it would make sense, wouldn't it, if that was the connection between the people killed? That they'd all committed that kind of crime?"

"Ghost kills her abuser and goes after other abusers while she's at it," Dean said, an edge of anger in his voice that made Sam want to flinch back, even knowing it wasn't directed at him. "Yeah. Maybe. We need to find out."

"I was just about to start checking into it when you got back," Sam said, shifting the laptop back into position. "You weren't gone that long - what happened, were all the bars playing pop music?" He tried to keep the question casual, because the thought that Dean had come back early because he didn't trust Sam to keep the promise he'd made... That idea hurt. Samhain had been an exception, to save lives, and he'd thought that Dean understood that, even if he was pissed off anyway. But if Dean felt like he couldn't trust Sam enough to leave him on his own for an hour or two...

"Nah," Dean answered. He hesitated for a moment before adding, "Had a divine visitation, that's all."

Sam caught his breath in alarm. "Shit. What - "

"It's okay," Dean said hastily. "It wasn't anything bad." He didn't look or sound entirely convinced, Sam thought. "Castiel just said we should watch our backs. He's going off to try to protect a Seal, so he won't be around for a while."

Sam let his breath out slowly. When they'd first figured out that Dean had been rescued from Hell by an angel, Sam had been relieved and grateful, had thought his prayers had been answered. He'd put Dean's own reactions down simply to his lack of faith, and it hadn't been until he'd met the angels for himself that Sam had finally understood his brother's mixture of fear and fury and confusion. Sam had always known that angels weren't human, but the extent of their inhumanity had come as a surprise. Things were fucked up when Ruby, a _demon_, had more compassion for human beings than angels did. Sam's own encounter with Uriel had been terrifying. And probably he ought to have told Dean about it already, but that would just lead to another round of Dean insisting that Sam stop using his powers, and things were screwed up enough right now without going over that yet again.

The news that Dean had been visited again no longer classified as good news in Sam's mind, even if the angel apparently hadn't been issuing threats this time.

"Anyway," Dean said into the silence. "It was okay, but it still kinda ruined my appetite, so I just headed back." He sighed. "You going to check out those people?"

"Yeah," Sam said, forcing his attention back to the case at hand. "What about you?"

Dean glanced at his watch. "I want to ask Bobby if he knows anything about ghosts and sulfur. But I'd rather not wake him unless it's an emergency. I'll call him tomorrow. I think I'll grab a shower in the meantime."

Sam nodded. "Leave me some hot water."

Dean snorted. "Whatever you say, princess."

He headed for the bathroom, stripping off his shirt and tossing it onto his bed as he passed it. Sam raised his head and watched out of the corner of his eye, trying not to be obvious about looking at the hand-shaped mark on Dean's arm. He still hadn't had a chance to look at it properly: with the exception of their visit to the psychic, Dean kept his upper arms covered these days. And he didn't think Dean would be too happy to put up with him staring at it. Understandable, given what it represented, Sam supposed.

Dean disappeared into the bathroom, pulling the door closed behind him. Sam turned back to the laptop, and started looking into the background of Mr. Keswick, the person who'd died most recently. He had been older, so there was a wider timeframe to check into, but he had also been a local, so -

_Smash_.

Sam was on his feet and at the door to the bathroom before he'd even realized he was moving. "Dean!"

When there was no immediate response, he burst into the room. Dean was leaning heavily against the sink, knuckles white where his hands were closed tight around the rim. His head was lowered, and he was breathing fast and hard. Sam wasn't sure his brother even knew he was there.

A glass lay shattered on the floor.

"Hey," Sam said, trying to calm his own racing heart. "Dean. You okay?"

It was a moment before Dean looked up. "What?" His tone was dazed, not accusatory.

Sam took a step closer, carefully skirting the glass shards, and cautiously laid a hand on Dean's bare back. Dean jerked beneath the touch before the tension went out of his muscles.

"What happened?" Sam asked softly.

Dean met his eyes silently for a moment before he seemed to snap out of it. "Nothing. Just knocked over that glass." He forced a grin, but even by Dean's crappy standards when it came to lying, it was weak.

"Knocked over the glass," Sam said, unable to keep the sarcastic edge out of his voice. "Yeah, because we both know how clumsy you are, Dean. How about you actually tell me the truth this time?"

"Yeah, because you're in a great position to lecture me on _that_," Dean muttered under his breath, shrugging Sam's hand off.

That hurt, all the more because there was a bit of truth to it. Sam took a deep breath and tried to keep his temper in check. "But I _did_ finally tell you the truth about what - what it was like while you were gone, Dean. You're the one who's still lying to me. From where I'm standing, you don't have much room to lecture me either."

"Fine, whatever," Dean snapped. "Will you get out of here so I can have my goddamn shower?"

"Not a chance," Sam retorted, and he could feel his anger really building now. "God, Dean, why are you acting like such an ass about this?"

"About knocking a glass over?" Dean demanded sarcastically. "Because trust me, this -"

"About that 'headache' you claimed to have yesterday! About the mask you couldn't stop staring at, back in that classroom! And yeah, about why you were so out of it that you managed to knock over a glass and didn't even hear me yell your name!" Sam could hear his voice getting dangerously loud, but he was long past the point of caring. "Damnit, Dean! Why won't you just admit the fucking truth, for once?"

"Sam -" Dean said, his voice suddenly weary.

Sam waited, but Dean just stared down at the splintered shards of glass.

"Fine," Sam said finally, unable to keep the edge out of his voice. He grabbed a towel off the rack and bent down, starting to carefully gather up the broken glass.

"I remember," Dean said into the silence.

Sam looked up sharply, but his brother was staring at the wall.

"Not all of it," Dean added. "But... flashes. Nightmares. Sometimes bits of it come back to me."

Sam nodded jerkily. "What..." The question died on his tongue.

"I don't -" Dean said, then cut himself off and started again. "Sam, don't - don't take this the wrong way, but I don't want to talk about it yet, okay? Just - I can't -"

"It's okay," Sam said instantly. It wasn't, not completely, because he _needed_ to know what Hell had been like, what his brother had gone through because of him. He needed to know how close his nightmares had been to the truth. Most of all, he needed to know how his brother was holding it together, and to help if he could.

But he wasn't going to force Dean to relive it now just for his sake. At least Dean had admitted he was remembering at all. That was enough for now.

"I'll clean this up," Sam said. "Go ahead and take your shower."

Dean looked at him for the first time since his confession, then nodded slowly and took a step back, turning away to unbutton his jeans. Sam busied himself with the glass, and didn't look up until Dean was in the shower, hidden behind the curtain.

He wanted, so badly, to pull the curtain back and step in beside his brother, run his hands all over him until he'd satisfied himself that Dean wasn't about to break apart. But he didn't have that right any more.

He forced himself to step out of the bathroom instead and close the door behind him.

* * *

Things were more normal in the morning. Sam watched Dean out of the corner of his eye, but he tried not to be too obvious about it, and for his part Dean seemed close to his usual self once he'd had his coffee and a disgustingly huge breakfast.

"I checked into the backgrounds," Sam said when they finally got back to the motel.

Dean looked at him and swore under his breath. "Our theory panned out, didn't it."

"I think so," Sam admitted. "I can't be completely certain, but... Chester Welles' ex-wife had a restraining order out on him. Mr. Keswick's youngest daughter killed herself twenty-odd years ago. I didn't find anything definitive about Dunbar or the Williamses, but they both have children in their early teens."

"Fuck," Dean said with feeling.

"Yeah," Sam said. "I realize it's kind of thin, but..."

Dean shook his head. "Not exactly the kind of thing people go shouting from the rooftops, Sam. There's enough there to sell me on it."

"I'm guessing Mrs. Williams knew what was going on, or at least suspected," Sam said. "I think that's why the spirit, or whatever it is, cut out her eyes."

"Dunbar was married too, wasn't he?" Dean asked. "His wife seems to have escaped. So maybe she didn't suspect anything."

Sam nodded. "There's just one problem with our theory that the ghost of Dunne's daughter is responsible for the deaths - Dunne wasn't the first one to die, he was the third."

Dean looked at him sharply. "Who was first?"

"Dunbar," Sam said. "And both his kids are still alive."

His brother paused, processing that. "Maybe it wasn't his own kids that he abused. He could have caused someone else's death."

Sam shrugged helplessly. "I checked every source I could think of, and I couldn't find any suspicious deaths of anyone close to him. But he worked at the local hospital, so there's no way to rule out the possibility that he abused someone he met there. He must have come into contact with thousands of people, though - I've no idea how we'd even begin to narrow it down."

"Maybe we're coming at it from the wrong angle, then," Dean said. "We should try to figure out what the hell's up with the sulfur we found, and see if we can figure out who might be next on the hit list. Not saying we should necessarily put a stop to it, mind..."

Sam gave a grim half-smile. He wasn't entirely sure whether Dean was serious or not about that. "I don't know what our chances are of figuring out who's next, but I'll give it a shot. You want to call Bobby now and ask him about the sulfur?"

"Yeah," Dean agreed, and went across the room to grab his cell phone.

Sam tuned out their conversation and concentrated on the problem at hand. How the hell was he supposed to figure out who else might have abused their children? He sighed, and decided to start with the easiest things to check: looking at news articles to see if there were any reports of people appearing in court charged with child abuse recently.

Dean hung up a few minutes later. "You want the short answer or the long answer?"

Sam shoved his hair back. "Short first."

"Bobby doesn't know," Dean informed him.

Sam frowned. "What's the long answer?"

"Not even _Bobby _knows what the fuck's going on with the sulfur," Dean said, gesturing with one hand for emphasis.

Sam sighed in disappointment, though no real surprise. He'd learned a _lot_ about demons since Dean had made his deal, studied them every chance he got, gone through every book Bobby owned and plenty more he didn't, and he didn't have a clue what could be causing the sulfur involved in this case. They _had_ to be looking at a vengeful spirit here. Maybe it really was a coincidence. Even coincidences had to happen every once in a while.

"You have any more luck?" Dean asked.

Sam huffed a laugh. "What, you thought things were going to start getting easy now? I think we're going to need to go to the library for this, man. The website for the local newspaper doesn't archive articles for more than a couple of weeks. And apparently the courthouse is only a block away from the library, the records there might be even more useful."

"Why am I not surprised," Dean muttered. "Okay, then, here's the plan. We grab some lunch and I drop you off at the library. Then I head over to Dunbar's house, see if I can find any clues there about who he abused, who our ghost could be."

"You really think he'd have, I don't know, written something like that in his diary or whatever?" Sam said skeptically.

Dean shrugged. "Worth a try, isn't it? And then I want to check out Keswick's house again. He was the last one to die, so maybe there'll be something there to tell us where the spirit went after that."

"Did you find anything like that yesterday?" Sam asked, unconvinced.

"Nope, not really," Dean admitted. "But I was busy trying to figure out what the fuck it was and why it had picked Keswick."

Sam gnawed on his lower lip, considering. "Okay, sounds like a plan."

* * *

Dean left the Impala a careful distance away from the Dunbar house. If anyone spotted him breaking in, he'd flash his FBI ID again and claim to be investigating, but it was better to be careful - it was broad daylight, after all, not the best time for breaking into places. On the plus side, he knew from the police file that Dunbar's wife and the kids had moved in with family and the place should be deserted, which would make things much easier.

Breaking in went smoothly, and Dean did a complete sweep of the house, shotgun and EMF meter in hand. Although the meter squealed a few times - particularly in the kitchen, to his utter lack of surprise - he felt fairly confident they were old traces from Dunbar's death, nothing more recent. The ghost hadn't been back here since, and it definitely wasn't here now.

He set the shotgun down on top of the chest of drawers and started searching the bedroom.

The place was fairly empty, which made things easier; Dean guessed Mrs. Dunbar had taken a lot of her belongings with her. It had been almost two months since her husband had died, and he had a feeling she was probably planning to sell the house rather than move back in.

The bedroom was a blank, though. Dean wasn't sure what exactly he'd been hoping to find: an envelope stuffed with dodgy photographs hidden somewhere, maybe, or hell, why not a tortured confession in a diary, like Sam had sarcastically suggested. There was no reason why he shouldn't strike it lucky once in a while.

Then again, maybe he was just looking in the wrong place. This had been the Dunbars' shared bedroom, after all, so perhaps it had been too risky to keep anything hidden there.

He grabbed the shotgun and headed back downstairs to try the study. It seemed far more like it had been Dunbar's space alone, the prints on the walls a completely different kind of fugly than in the rest of the house. Dean hit the button to start the computer, then turned his attention to the drawers of the desk and the files in them. He pulled out the files and spread them out across the desk, skimming over them. Nothing obviously suspicious, he decided eventually, and checked the back of the drawer for hidden items instead, but there was nothing.

"Fuck's sake," Dean muttered under his breath, and jammed the files roughly back into the drawer, not bothering to try to keep them in order. It wasn't like Dunbar was going to be worrying about it any more.

He looked at the computer, now waiting for him to enter a password. Dean scowled: hacking into computers was Sam's side of things. Still, he knew a few of the basics, so he tried entering as many variations on Dunbar's name as he could come up with - first name, last name, first name and last name, last name then first name. None of them worked.

He pulled out his cell phone and called Sam.

"Hey," Sam answered, his voice low, and Dean figured his brother was still inside the library. Maybe even being glared at by the librarian, if Dean was lucky.

"Hey," he replied. "Hope I haven't gotten you into trouble..."

Sam's sigh hovered halfway between exasperation and affection. "No you don't. You _love _getting me into trouble."

It was true that there were few things Dean found more entertaining than Sammy cowering before the wrath of a librarian. "Is she a dragon? Or is she one of those hot librarians, with the bun and the glasses and looking all stern -"

"Dean," Sam cut him off firmly.

"Spoilsport," Dean muttered. "Fine. What's Dunbar's date of birth, again?"

"Um..." There was a rustling of paper on the other end of the line. "September 24th, 1973. You trying to figure out his computer password?"

"Yeah," Dean said absently, typing in the digits. "No luck with his name, so I figured..." He tried a different order, then another.

"No luck with that either?" Sam asked.

"Why would my luck change now," Dean said sardonically. "Any suggestions, geekboy?"

"You could try just entering 'password'," Sam suggested. "Sometimes people really do that. Or 'test'. After that, best bet is to try other things that were important to him and meant something, so - pets, wife's name. If it turns out it's his high-school locker combination, you probably don't stand much of a chance, though."

Dean frowned, typing in 'password'. "I was expecting something a little more high-tech than 'just guess', somehow."

"Not like there's much I can do from here, dude," Sam told him.

"Yeah, yeah," Dean muttered, and paused. "Oh. I know what I didn't try yet."

"What?" Sam asked.

Dean didn't answer, thinking back to the file he'd read that morning. The name of Dunbar's oldest daughter.

_elizabeth_, he typed in, and felt sick to his stomach instead of triumphant when the password was accepted.

"Dean?" Sam said.

"His daughter's name," Dean said quietly. "The oldest one. Elizabeth."

Sam was quiet for a moment. "That doesn't - lots of people do that, Dean. It doesn't prove anything."

"No," Dean said grimly. "It doesn't. The photos I just found, on the other hand..."

Sam swore under his breath.

"Yeah," Dean agreed. He could hear the tightness of his own voice as he clicked through a couple more of the photographs before backing out of the folder he'd found them in.

Sam was silent for a moment, then asked, "Are all the photos of Elizabeth? Is there anyone else in them?"

Dean was clicking his way methodically through the various folders and subfolders. "Can't see any others. He might just have them hidden elsewhere, but since he saved the ones of Elizabeth here, I'm guessing not."

"Okay," Sam said slowly. "But Elizabeth is still alive, right?"

Dean paused as the implication sank in. "She can't be the ghost. There has to be someone else."

"Well, it's always possible there's another victim and Dunbar just didn't take any photos," Sam said thoughtfully. "Or we could be wrong about it being a ghost. Maybe it _is_ Elizabeth and she found a way - mind control, some kind of compulsion... I mean, it seems unlikely, I wouldn't expect sulfur or EMF from that, but..."

"Yeah, well, looking at those photos, Sam, all I can say is I hope she did," Dean said tightly. "Because he got what he deserved."

Sam didn't reply immediately, and Dean didn't know whether his brother was surprised by his vehemence or not. Dean didn't really care if he'd shocked his brother, not this time. Dunbar had had it coming.

"What are you going to do now?" Sam asked finally. There was no judgment in his tone.

Dean sighed and tried to think. "I don't know."

"Come back to the library," Sam told him. "There are a few more things I want to check out, but after that... we could go and talk to Elizabeth."

The last thing Dean felt like doing right then was sitting quietly in a library. What he _wanted _to do was punch something. Hard. Several times. "I want to swing by the Keswick house again first. It's on the way anyway, and worth checking out again." He didn't really think he was likely to find anything there he hadn't found the day before, but it beat the library idea hands down.

"Okay," Sam said, accepting that. Dean could hear the understanding in his voice, knew his brother had a damn good idea why Dean wanted to check the other scene again, but wasn't about to push him. "I've found a couple of candidates who I think might be at risk, but I'm not quite done yet - I probably need about another thirty minutes. Go check out the other house, and I'll call you when I'm done. Okay?"

"Okay," Dean echoed, feeling a bit steadier from the calm tones of his brother's voice.

"Oh, and Dean?" Sam added. "Not a dragon." He hung up.

Dean stared at his phone, the huffed a half-laugh, shaking his head. _Thanks, Sam._

It was starting to get dark by the time Dean reached the Keswick house, but he decided it was probably still safer to leave the car parked a couple of minutes away, rather than right outside. He grabbed the EMF meter and the shotgun, then dug a flashlight out of the trunk as well. He kept it all out of sight as best he could as he walked to the house and broke in the same way he had the day before.

It was just as silent inside as he remembered, apart from the way the EMF meter began screeching as soon as he got indoors. Louder than it had the previous day.

Dean muttered a curse under his breath and raised the shotgun, stepping cautiously further inside, playing the flashlight beam around him. _Damnit_. He remembered now the moment when he'd wondered if there was a chance that the ghost or whatever it was might still be there. When nothing had come after him, he'd assumed not, but it was starting to look like he'd been wrong.

The kitchen was empty, but the dried blood that had caked the floor the day before was gone; evidently someone had been in to clean up the crime scene. The EMF meter still screamed more shrilly where the blood had been, but then eased back to its previous level, so Dean moved on to the next room, then the next, working his way methodically through the house. He saved the bedroom, where he'd found the sulfur the day before, for last.

Sure enough, the bedroom seemed colder than the rest of the house, and Dean didn't need the screech of the EMF meter to warn him he wasn't alone.

"You gonna show yourself sometime soon, Casper?" he said aloud. "Or are you waiting for an invitation or something? You've got one."

"You certainly haven't lost any of your charm, Dean Winchester," Bela said behind him.


	2. Chapter 2

Sam sighed and stretched, then started packing his things together. He'd done the best he could. With this kind of thing, it was always difficult to figure out the exact pattern, who might qualify to be the next victim. He'd found a couple of local people who he thought could be candidates, but there was no way to be certain.

Trying to figure out the source was probably the more effective approach, but that wasn't easy either, since they weren't sure _what_ they were dealing with. Sam was still leaning towards it being a vengeful spirit, though he guessed he couldn't rule out the possibility that Elizabeth Durham was the one behind it all. Maybe she'd found a way to raise something to take out people who'd been committing abuse. Sam wasn't exactly looking forward to having to talk with her, because he really didn't want to confront her about it if she wasn't responsible. She'd been through so much already: Sam didn't want to make anything worse.

He glanced around to make sure the librarian wasn't looking in his direction, then pulled out his cell phone and hit the speed dial for Dean, shuffling the last of his notes into order.

It wasn't until it went to voicemail that Sam realized how long the phone had been ringing. He frowned, hung up and dialed again.

Still voicemail.

_Fuck_. _We shouldn't have split up_.

Sam grabbed his notes and was out of the library before Dean's message ended. He looked around wildly, orienting himself. It was late afternoon and dark already, but hotwiring a car around here - this close to the courthouse - seemed like a bad idea. Dean had been heading over to the Keswick house, which was - thank God - not too far away, a lot closer than the Dunbar house. Maybe ten, fifteen minutes on foot, if he pushed it.

Sam broke into a run.

* * *

"Fuck me," Dean said.

Bela's smile was sharp-edged. "Not a chance."

Dean kept his shotgun aimed at her. "So, last time I saw you, you were -" He cut off.

_Blood pain darkness_

Bela's smile didn't change. "Last time you saw me, we were screaming on meathooks together."

Dean's fingers tightened convulsively around the shotgun as the memories hit him.

_Hooks slicing through him_.

_Bela laughing at him between her screams_.

_"Breaking so soon, Dean? Thought you were more of a man than that."_

He took a sharp breath, trying not to let it show. "Fun times."

"For all the family," Bela agreed. Her smile was cruel. "How's Sam?"

Dean ignored that question. He was still trying to process the memories flooding into his mind, but he didn't let the shotgun waver. Bela had been in Hell with him. Now she was back.

"So how did you make it out?" he asked after a moment.

"Well, some of us weren't lucky enough to have an _angel_ come swooping down to pull us out," Bela said caustically. "I've got to say, Dean, if I'd had to pick someone an angel would take an interest in, you wouldn't have even made the shortlist. You've never exactly been the saintly type." Her smile vanished. "Why you?"

"I don't know," Dean admitted.

Bela laughed. "Of course not. Why am I not surprised."

Dean was watching her very closely, studying her appearance. At first glance, Bela looked much the same as she always had, but when he looked closer, he could see tiny but definite differences, although nothing so clear-cut that he could put his finger on exactly _what _was different. She looked like... like this appearance was her memory of what she'd looked like before.

He remembered running into a black-eyed version of himself in his dreams, and suddenly realized how Bela had made it out of Hell.

"You're a demon," he said. He wanted to say something else - curse her, maybe, or accuse her of not putting up a fight - but he swallowed the words down, remembering all too clearly what it had been like, Below. How he'd broken under the strain of it all. The things he'd done. He'd gotten lucky, eventually; she hadn't.

Besides, he had a feeling they'd reached a tentative truce down there, of sorts, even if the details were only coming back to him slowly.

"Not quite," Bela said, her smile back in place. "Or at least, not any more so than you are."

Dean gripped the shotgun tighter, needing something solid. The ground beneath him felt like it was falling away.

"We were down there a long time," Bela said. Her tone was light, but her eyes were shadowed. "Much longer than it seemed up here. It went on forever, and the torment never stopped." She took a step towards him, ignoring the shotgun, her dark eyes fixed on him. "You were the first one to tell me what would happen. That we wouldn't be trapped in those chains for all eternity, because at some point we'd stop being damned souls, and become demons."

He could remember it now, the snatched moment of conversation when he'd told her that, and the blackness of the despair that had been suffocating him, knowing all he had to look forward to, the only way it would _end_, was becoming what he hated the most. Things had gotten worse after that. A lot worse.

"How are you enjoying life as a demon, Dean?" Bela murmured. "Following in Daddy's footsteps, just like always -"

"He was _not_ a demon," Dean snapped, because that much he was certain of, _that_ was solid ground. "He -"

"- Spent more time Below than either of us," Bela pointed out. "On your behalf, I might add."

Dean wanted to shoot her so badly it hurt, but he strongly suspected his salt rounds weren't going to be enough.

"He was _not_ a demon," he repeated tightly. "I saw him. He helped to kill the yellow-eyed demon. He was still my _dad_, still the same John Winchester."

Bela met his gaze, then smiled, almost sadly this time, and turned away, wandering across the room to look at the photographs on a shelf, ignoring the shotgun Dean was holding with a carelessness that made him sure he'd been right that it wouldn't have much effect on her.

"He wasn't the same, Dean," she said, not looking at him. "No one can go through that and be the _same_. I'm not the same. Are you really trying to tell me you are?"

Dean thought of the nightmares, and breaking out of his own grave, and the memories that were always_ right there_, lurking just beneath the surface.

"No," he admitted, almost inaudibly.

"No," Bela agreed. "But you're right, you're not a demon, either, and neither was John Winchester." She turned around to face him again. "And neither am I." She gave a small, self-deprecating smile. "Or at least, not exactly."

"Nice try, sweetheart," Dean said, and gave her a cocky smile. He'd found his balance again. "We found sulfur. And a _lot _of people around here have suddenly felt the need to slice and dice their own fingers, or decided they've gone off beer and feel like trying bleach for a change. Don't even try telling me it's all some big coincidence."

Bela rolled her eyes. "Still not the sharpest blade, are you? I suppose some things really _don't _change." She met his gaze intently, all humor dropping away. "I'm a damned soul, Dean. Not quite a ghost, not quite a demon."

Dean took that in. "Judging by the sulfur, I'm guessing closer to the demon edge of the scale, right?"

She shrugged. "Who knows? It's not like there's little milestones telling you how far you've come or how far there is to go. All I know is I'm not quite either. Which has its advantages. For instance -"

She was back across the room in front of him before he could process it, and yeah, that was a ghost move, the way they jumped from one place to another, so maybe she was telling the truth -

\- And then she jumped inside him.

Dean wasn't prepared for it, hadn't expected it - _stupid, stupid_ \- and he fought her as best he could, struggling for control. But he'd been caught off-guard and Bela had done this before, knew exactly what she was doing, and this was nothing like a fair fight.

The shotgun slipped out of his hands and fell to the ground, and Dean couldn't even spare a moment to be relieved the safety had been on: his whole attention was turned inwards, struggling against her, but this was one kind of fighting he hadn't been trained in, and then Bela took control.

It felt for an instant like he was falling away from himself before things steadied. He could still see, he realized, and hear - his cell phone was ringing - but he wasn't in control any more, couldn't move his hands to answer the phone, couldn't do anything.

It was a little like being tied up, loose enough that you could struggle and fight against your bonds, but tight enough that you weren't going anywhere. It was a little bit like being paralyzed, your body refusing to respond to your commands. But at the same time, it wasn't really like either of those things, because this was _possession_, and Dean had been possessed often enough in the past to know the feeling and know it wasn't really something that any words could convey. He'd thought it couldn't happen again, thought the tattoo would -

_Oh yes, your tattoo_, Bela thought inside him. His body responded to her orders, turning towards the mirror and pulling his shirt aside until the stark black lines were visible. His finger - her finger - traced over it appreciatively. _Very fetching, Dean. But it's designed to keep out demons, isn't it - and like I told you, I'm not exactly a demon_.

_Yeah, **possessing **me is going a long way towards convincing me of that_, Dean snarled back at her. He could _sense_ her, now she was inside him, and although she didn't feel like any of the demons who'd possessed him in the past - they'd been utter darkness - he could sense the dark, shadowy streak that ran through her. Not a demon, no, but closer to it than she wanted to admit even to herself, maybe. _Get the fuck out of me, bitch, or I swear -_

Bela's laughter rang through him. _Calm down, Dean. I haven't done anything to hurt you, have I? And I won't, unless - _She paused for a second, as if she'd just heard something she hadn't expected and was trying to figure out exactly what it was.

And then she turned on his memories.

Dean screamed, because _fuck_, it _hurt_, a soul-deep pain that cut deeper than anything had since Hell, and it was too much like being back Below. Bela was taking his memories apart, searching through them, digging into some and discarding others. She was looking for something, Dean could tell that much, even if he didn't know what. Each memory that she grabbed, Dean saw - relived, really, fragments and moments before she moved onto the next one.

_A park bench, children laughing as they played._

Lilith clinging to his arm, her little-girl voice more sinister than any threat.

Sam holding him, and that's the moment Dean knows he's really back.

Bela narrowed in on that memory, replayed every moment of it like she was expecting something, then discarded it too and moved on.

_Dark pain blood pain screaming -_

That one she shied away from as much as he did, both of them flinching away in unison, but before Dean could seize the chance to try to break free, she'd moved on again, memories from before Hell now.

_Sam demanding that they summon Ruby, Dean furious and terrified._

Sam pressing him against a wall, telling him he's not going to die, kissing him before he can answer.

Bela narrowed in again, searching through that memory, seizing on similar ones, hunting for more.

_Sam inside him, rocking together, and Dean feels broken open._

Snapping "I don't have all year, you know," and pain flaring in Sam's eyes before he kissed him.

The first time, all new and bright and terrifying, and the prospect of Hell seems dimmer by comparison.

Bela paused over that one, examining it from every angle, and then she was hunting again, digging out earlier and earlier memories.

_Sam collapsing to the ground, and he can't, he can't, Dean will do anything -_

Watching Sam kiss her, unable to look away.

Sam getting out of the car and walking back to his apartment and his pretty girlfriend and his normal life.

Sam yelling at him to grow a mind of his own.

Sam begging to stay home and study instead of hunting.

Sammy asking if Dean liked Melissa more than him.

Bela pulled back from his memories, and Dean reeled, disoriented, trying to get his mind back in order. He felt... violated, even more so than he'd felt when she'd taken over his body.

_Violated?_ Bela hissed, and Dean had seen her furious before, but never this level of incandescent rage. _You dare complain of being violated? **You**?_ He felt her control herself with an effort, but her anger didn't dim at all. _You're bound to be carrying a knife, aren't you, Winchester? Where is it?_

Dean wasn't, as it happened - he'd brought the shotgun and spare salt rounds, the EMF meter, but he'd thought he was dealing with a vengeful spirit, and he hadn't thought to bring a knife.

_Then I guess we're taking a little walk_, Bela said. _I mean, there are plenty of knives in the kitchen downstairs, but it's just not the same using someone else's, somehow._

* * *

Sam wasn't surprised to find the back door of the Keswick house slightly ajar, but it was still a relief to have confirmation that Dean had made it that far; it had occurred to him only belatedly that his brother might not have made it out of the Dunbar house before whatever had happened to make him not answer his phone had happened.

It was dark inside, and Sam wished he had a flashlight. Not to mention a decent weapon. He had a knife, but that wasn't likely to do him much good against a vengeful spirit, or whatever he was dealing with. Most of all, he wished he had his brother with him.

He didn't call out: if Dean wasn't able to answer his phone, he was unlikely to be in a position to answer Sam yelling, either. Instead, Sam slowly worked his way through the house, checking it out room by room. The place was silent, the sound of his own breathing sounding horribly loud by comparison.

At the top of the stairs, he saw a light coming from one of the rooms, and carefully headed in that direction. He listened outside the door for a moment, then burst into the room.

The light was coming from a flashlight lying on the floor. Next to it lay a shotgun. Sam knew them both very, very well.

Dean wasn't there.

Sam snatched up both the flashlight and the shotgun, relieved to be better equipped, but even more alarmed than he had been before, because there was no way Dean would have left those lying there of his own accord. He checked out the room, and then the others on that floor, but there was nothing else to even indicate Dean had been there, let alone where he'd gone.

"Damnit," Sam whispered. "Where are you, Dean?"

He headed back downstairs and tried to think where he should look next.

* * *

_This what you did to all of them?_ Dean asked. He knew the answer, but he wanted to hear it anyway.

Bela continued to march his body towards the Impala. Dean was pretty sure anyone watching would think he was moving oddly, but it was dark now; no one was likely to be looking that closely. And even if they did, it wasn't like anyone would be able to do anything. Dean was on his own with this.

_Yes_, Bela said. Her thoughts were still hard-edged with fury. _This is what I do to people like you, Dean Winchester. I give you a taste of what you do to others. I make you pay, just a fraction, for what you've done._

That was the bit Dean was still wondering about. _I get why you went after those other bastards. I saw the photographs on Thomas Dunbar's computer - can't say I'm sorry you made him cut his fingers off. We found out about Dunne, too. I'm guessing the others were no better. And... you never told us what exactly your deal was about, but we found out your parents died, and that wasn't a coincidence._

Bela said, _You once asked me if my father didn't give me enough hugs as a child. _Her voice cut into him like a knife. _I guess you couldn't have known the problem was the exact opposite._

Dean couldn't help but flinch at that. _I'm sorry_.

_Don't you **dare**_. Bela's mind lashed out at him, almost like a mental slap, and Dean reeled in response. _You of all people - don't you dare apologize when you're the same!_

If Dean had been in control of his body, his jaw would have dropped. _What?_

_Are you going to try to deny it? After everything I just saw in your memories?_

Holy fuck, Dean couldn't believe it. _You think I'm like those - you think I'd ever -_

I don't just think it. I saw it. You did it.

They'd reached the Impala now, and Bela snagged the keys out of his pocket, opening up the trunk. She propped open the weapons compartment and eyed the selection of knives with the closest thing he'd felt to approval from her since she'd taken control of his body.

Dean wasn't stupid; he knew she had to be referring to the whole thing between him and Sam. Those were the memories she'd honed in on. But it still made no sense, because -

_I'd never hurt Sam. Never. Whatever you're thinking, it wasn't like that._

Oh, really? Then what was it like, Dean? Why don't you tell me how you weren't abusing your brother._ Let me guess - it was consensual?_

Yes, Dean snarled in his head. _It **was**_.

_You know, Thomas Dunbar thought that too. Thought his pretty little daughter was desperate for Daddy to show her -_ Bela cut off, sounding sickened. _Almost all of them tell themselves that. It doesn't mean the victim sees it that way. It doesn't make it true._

Dean was feeling kind of sick himself. _Doesn't make it a lie in this case. Sam's no kid, and he's never done a damned thing he didn't want to do in his whole life. I didn't - look, I'm not saying it's not fucked up, but it wasn't **abuse**, I never forced him to -_

_No_, Bela agreed. _I saw your memories. But you didn't say no, either, did you? You didn't stop him._

_He wanted -_

Bela's voice sharpened, cracking like a whip. _You'd just sold your soul for him! He knew you only had a year left. He was terrified and guilty and he tried to make things better, tried to give you what you wanted -_

_It wasn't like that_, Dean protested. Now he really was feeling sick. _That's not what it was like_.

_And instead of figuring that out_, Bela continued relentlessly, _instead of telling him he didn't need to do that, that you'd never want to do that to him, you took what he was offering. You took, and you kept taking, and you told yourself it was for him, that it was all about what he wanted and needed. When really it was all about you_.

She was wrong. She _had_ to be wrong. Dean clung on to that, feeling like he was drowning, because - because it was true that Sam had been upset after Dean had made his deal. It was true that he'd gone through a phase of letting Dean get away with all kinds of shit, and Dean had told himself he hadn't taken advantage of that for anything more than a couple of drinks and an occasional few hours for a hook-up with cute chicks he'd met. He'd never thought of - never considered that Sam might -

Sam had been the one to start it. Sam had been the one to raise the issue and make the first move, and Dean had thought, assumed, that meant Sam wanted it. That his brother needed it. That it was okay, that it was something he could let himself have. He'd told himself he was doing it for Sam.

_And how have things been going since you got back, Dean, hmm?_ Bela asked, and he knew by the tone of her voice that she'd already seen that in his memories, too. Because since Dean had come back, it had stopped. Sam hadn't - hadn't tried to, hadn't asked, none of it, not since Dean came back. And Dean had told himself that Sam had just moved on, or that there was too much else going on, or that - that he didn't want Dean the way he'd come back, even more fucked up than he'd ever been before. And that was hard, but he'd been dealing with it.

It hadn't occurred to him that maybe Sam hadn't _really_ wanted what was between them in the first place.

It wasn't true, it couldn't be, _couldn't be_.

Bela selected a knife, a long, sharp one that his father had once given to him, and turned it over in her hand. His hand. He could feel, he realized belatedly. He had no control over his body, but he could feel it now in a way he hadn't before - feel the press of the hilt against his palm, the familiar weight and balance of the knife. He would feel it when she sliced off his fingers, too - felt the bite of the blade as it cut through him. Feel the pain.

_Going to beg me, Dean?_ Bela asked, almost curiously.

Dean stared at the knife, and found himself answering before he even knew what he was going to say. _No_.

_Why?_

Dean felt strangely distant from the situation, even now he could feel the edge of the blade settling against his left thumb. _You've made up your mind; doesn't matter what I say. I don't - I still don't think it was like that. But no, I don't know exactly what was going on in Sam's head, not for certain. So if you're going to do it, then get on with it._

This isn't about me, Bela told him. _This is about -_

_This **is **about you_, Dean said, because if she was going to do this, that was one thing, but damned if he was going to let her lie to herself about it. _This is about what happened to you. Because the thing is, you don't really know what's going on between me and Sam. You can look at my memories, but you can't look at his. He just spent months trying to break me out of Hell, so I don't think this is what he wants, but I don't **know**, and that means neither do you. So do what you like, but don't try to tell yourself you're doing it for him, because you're not._  
_  
Don't try to pretend you don't care whether I do it or not_, Bela hissed.

_Whether you cut off my fingers?_ Dean gave a mental shrug, since his real shoulders were out of his control. _You spent four months Below too, Bela. You know that's nothing. Whether you kill me and I end up back there? Yeah. Yeah, that I care about. A lot. I don't want to go back. But thing is, Sam is everything to me. He's the one I went there for. And he's the only thing in this world that I'd willingly go back there for. So do what you're going to do_.

The pressure of the knife against his thumb eased up.

_I'm not going to send you back Below_, Bela said. Her mental voice sounded less certain than before. _That's not... I don't want to go back there. I don't want to put you back there, either._

_Then what **do** you want, Bela?_ Dean asked.

_I want Lilith_, Bela admitted, her voice tight and broken. _I want to drag her Below and I want to kill her. I want the bitch dead._

_Then what are you doing hanging around here wasting your time on these fuckers?_ Dean was genuinely curious. _Not that they don't deserve it, don't get me wrong._

Bela actually managed a slight laugh at that. _You've gone up against her before, Dean. You know how powerful she is. I'm a damned soul, not even a demon - not yet, anyway. I needed to get stronger, figure out how to possess people, how to control them, how to -_

"DEAN!"

_Oh, fuck. Sam._

There was a far too long moment when neither Dean nor Bela was fully in control of his body, not enough for either of them to speak, to convince Sam that everything was okay. Sam was standing on the sidewalk just a few feet away, and his eyes were narrowed, taking in the knife still pressed to Dean's thumb and flickering up. Dean knew his brother would recognize the slight _off_-ness of his posture immediately, know at once that Dean was possessed.

_Fuck_, Dean cursed, _Bela, get out of me, now! Before he -_

It was too late. Dean could see his brother assessing the situation, fast and efficient like their father had always taught them, and reach a decision. Sam inhaled sharply and raised one arm, his palm flat.

Dean only had time to think _Oh fuck_ before Sam's power hit him.

It didn't feel the way he'd expected. With everything he knew about its origin, all the warnings and threats the angels had issued about it, Dean had expected darkness, expected it to feel like being suffocated or like something was being cut out of him. Instead it was like light pouring into him, coursing through him and forcing the darkness out through any crack it could find.

It felt like Sam.

Bela screamed inside his head, fighting the power, and Dean was dimly aware of the clatter as his knife dropped to the ground, as his knees buckled and he hit the sidewalk too. Then he lost sight of the world around him, too caught up in the battle going on inside.

_No, no, no!_ Bela screamed. _I can't go back, you can't send me back there, please, no, Dean -_

Dean was still struggling to understand what was going on, reeling inside his own mind. But Bela's appeal - _can't go back_ \- hit through, because he knew that fear, knew it bone-deep and deeper. Sam wasn't just trying to drive her out of Dean's body, he was trying to send her back to Hell.

Dean couldn't let that happen.

He grabbed at her essence as best he could, feeling her hook herself into him, sharp and desperate. He tried to find a way for them to melt back into furthest corners of his being, some shadowy area safe from Sam's light, but the light followed, expanding and growing even brighter, filling him up.

Dean could feel the pressure growing, Sam as irresistible a force as ever, and this wasn't a battle he knew how to fight. He needed to convince his brother to stop.

He tried to bind Bela closer, and she clung to him ferociously, winding herself in and around and through him when he let her, and for a long moment they were entangled so tightly that he caught flashes of her memories, her soul, almost the way she'd searched through his before.

_Bela screaming in Hell, unbearable torment, and his own voice taunting her until she finds her balance enough to insult him back._

White light arcing down, brighter in the dark than anything has ever been, and though he's the one who is raised, the edges of the light cut through the darkness of her chains, and she's falling.

Ruby laughing, the sound strangely at odds with the ugliness of her true face, not any of her meatpuppets, and then she extends her hand. "This way."

Dean shook himself out of it, forcing himself to the fore so that Bela's essence was still wound through his, but now he was on the surface. And then he tried to take back control of his body.

It was hard, with the light still pouring through him, with Bela still clinging to him, but after a moment he was able to see again. Sam's eyes were closed, his face tight with concentration and strain. Dean fought for control of his own mouth.

"Sam," he whispered, then, stronger, "_Sam_."

He almost choked on the light, feeling it try to force Bela out from where she was tangled up in him, force her essence out through his mouth. Talking was not easy.

"Sammy!" he choked out. "_Stop_!"

Sam's eyes opened a fraction, his frown deepening as he studied Dean's face. Dean did the best he could to convey _it's me, goddamn **stop**_, and after a second Sam's expression wavered, confusion creeping in. The flood of light coursing through Dean seemed to slow, then retract - not much, but it was the best chance they were going to get.

_Bela, now! Go!_

She'd been woven so tightly into him that it was hard for her to extricate herself - it felt like he was being torn apart again, and he felt his body sagging, curling over in agony. Finally she ripped free, and fled from his body the same way she'd entered it, passing straight through his skin. He managed to keep his eyes open for long enough to see her appear outside him, maintaining her familiar form only for a split second before collapsing into a cloud of gray smoke, swirling out of sight.

Then his body gave way entirely and he collapsed the rest of the way to the sidewalk, the asphalt rough against his cheek.

"Dean!"

He couldn't help but moan a little as Sam shifted him, rolling him over and lifting his head so it was pillowed against Sam's thigh. Fingers pushed his hair back from his face, and he could feel Sam checking his pulse, his brother's hands shaking as they passed over him, looking for damage.

Dean forced his eyes open. Sam's eyes were wide and scared now, so different from their narrow determination before. And still hazel. Still Sam.

"Dean," Sam whispered, meeting his gaze. "God. Are you okay? What -"

"M'okay," Dean mumbled. Truthfully, he felt bruised all over, inside and out, and between the accusations Bela had made and what Sam had just done, he had a hell of a lot to think about. But Sam was here, and yeah, Dean was okay.

Sam didn't seem very keen to stop touching him any time soon, and that was just fine with Dean right up until he heard Bela's voice in his head again - _You took, and you kept taking_ \- and then he was forcing himself upright, first to his knees and then, shakily, to his feet.

Sam grabbed his arm to support him. "Jesus, Dean -"

"Let's get out of here," Dean said, pulling away to brace himself against the Impala. He slammed the trunk shut, and found himself unsteady enough on his feet to convince him to toss Sam the keys. His brother caught them automatically, still staring at him.

"Sam!" Dean snapped when his brother showed no sign of moving.

Sam blinked and finally moved, crossing around the car to get in the driver's side, keeping a careful distance away from Dean as he did so. Dean climbed stiffly in next to him, and closed his eyes as Sam drove.

When they got back to the motel, Dean headed straight for the bathroom, shutting the door firmly behind him and ignoring his brother softly saying his name. He undressed in a daze and cranked the shower up as hot as he could. It was almost unbearable against his skin, but still not hot enough to scour away the way he felt.

He'd known when things had first changed between him and Sam that he ought to say no, that it was his responsibility - but he hadn't. Too terrified of the trip Below which he'd known lay ahead of him, too desperate to cling as tightly to Sam as he could, the brother he'd watched die so recently. He hadn't been strong enough to deal with it all on his own. Sam had known that, had offered him everything he had to give. And Dean had taken it.

_You took, and you kept taking_.

He hadn't meant to take from Sam. He'd believed, truly believed, that it was what his brother wanted, that with the shadow of Dean's deal hanging over them Sam wanted to cling to him just as tightly. Sam had always been the most important person in his life, and Sam had made it clear over the past few years that he felt the same way about Dean, even if it had taken a while for Dean to wrap his mind around it. Dean had thought it was an extension of that - oh, a fucked-up _Winchester _version, sure, but still the right thing for them.

Even after he'd been busted out of Hell, it had never occurred to Dean to regret it - never occurred to him that Sam might. He'd figured that he'd changed, that he was too damaged, that Sam had moved on, but he'd never thought that maybe Sam wished he'd never let it happen in the first place. Until Bela had reacted the way she had.

Dean didn't give too much of a damn about what other people thought of him and his life, because those people didn't know him or get him. But Bela had been right inside his head, had seen his memories, seen _him_, and he'd felt her horror and the sickness of the memories he brought back for her.

He shut off the water and grabbed a towel, scrubbing it mechanically over his body before wrapping it around his waist and stepping out of the shower. The floor was cold against his feet, bringing him back to his surroundings. Dean sighed and swiped a hand over the fogged-up mirror, wondering whether he should bother shaving.

It was fucking weird seeing his reflection these days. He still hadn't gotten used to his scars being gone. He'd picked up so many over the years, some ugly, others barely visible, all of them with a story behind them, good or bad. Now they were gone, an impossible palm-print on his shoulder instead. Scars were a stupid thing to miss, Dean was pretty sure - probably like missing pain or misery or whatever. But so many things had changed, and sometimes it felt like he didn't know anything any more - not what was real, not Sam, not even himself.

* * *

Sam paced back and forth, listening to the water running as his brother showered.

_Trying to get clean_, a small voice inside Sam's head whispered.

He supposed he shouldn't be surprised. Dean had made it more than clear how he felt about Sam's 'freaky psychic shit', and he'd only become more adamant since the angels had gotten involved. Even when Sam had used his abilities to send Samhain back to Hell - saving his own life and, oh yes, the _entire town_ in the process - Dean had stared at him like he didn't even know Sam any more. His brother hadn't said anything at the time, still hadn't raised the issue again, but he didn't need to. Sam was well aware of how Dean felt about it.

And that was before Sam had used his powers on _him_.

Fuck. Fuck fuck _fuck_.

Now Dean couldn't get far enough away from him, hadn't even let Sam help him into the car, hadn't hung around to let Sam explain before he'd shut himself in the bathroom. Sam couldn't help but wonder morbidly how it had felt for Dean. Had it been like demon darkness pressing down on him? Had he been able to feel the demonic origin of the power? Dean had kept his distance ever since he'd returned from Hell, and Sam had understood that, _god_, so well. He understood that he'd changed while Dean was gone, and Dean had gone to _Hell_ for him. Sam would never expect things to go back to how they were, not after everything his brother had endured because of him, and that was - he could live with things not being the same any more, because Dean was back and that was all that mattered. But then he'd used his powers on his brother, and now he wasn't sure Dean was going to be able to even _look_ at him again.

It had seemed the right thing to do at the time. It had all happened so fast - spotting Dean standing next to the Impala, abruptly realizing _that's not my brother_, catching sight of the knife pressed to Dean's hand. He'd only had a second to react, had fallen back instinctively on the option least likely to cause damage to his brother. Only it hadn't worked out that way.

Sam still hadn't figured out exactly what had happened. The exorcism should have worked, and it hadn't - Dean had somehow regained control before the... demon? had been expelled. Sam had assumed it was a demon, because spirits couldn't usually take someone over like that - influence the living, yes; possess them, not so much. Maybe going to Hell had broken the protection in Dean's tattoo, in which case he was going to need a new one.

Why the hell had it even possessed Dean in the first place? It had been pretty choosy about its victims so far. Had it just rounded on his brother when he got too close?

It had been holding the knife pressed to Dean's thumb, ready to start slicing and dicing. Almost as if...

Sam caught his breath and damned himself for an idiot. The look on Dean's face, the way he'd flinched back from Sam's touch... that hadn't been his brother's disapproval. That had been Dean beating _himself_ up.

The shower had stopped running a while back, but Dean hadn't come out of the bathroom yet. Sam didn't bother knocking, didn't bother calling out to his brother, just barged straight in.

Dean was standing in front of the mirror, staring at his own reflection, though his eyes jumped to Sam's as he entered.

"It said something to you," Sam said, trying not to look at the expanse of Dean's bare back. It was surprisingly easy, with the fears currently swirling in his head. "I thought you were - but it said something, didn't it?"

"It was Bela," Dean said neutrally.

That took Sam aback. "Bela? But -"

Dean shrugged with patently false carelessness. "Don't ask me how she made it out of Hell, I only caught a glimpse while she was in my mind. Guess she's been going on some kind of revenge spree against guys who remind her of daddy dearest."

Sam tried to absorb that. So Bela's father had... fuck. Well, that explained her deal; he'd always thought there had to have been more to it than money. What it didn't explain was why she'd gone after Dean.

"Think I pissed her off," Dean concluded, looking down at the sink.

"She was going to cut off your fingers," Sam said slowly. "She was - Dean? What did she say to you?"

Dean sighed and met his eyes briefly before looking away again. "She looked at my memories. She said I - " He cut off and swallowed hard.

Sam couldn't stop staring. "But you told her it wasn't like that." There was more of an incredulous question in there than he'd intended, but, god, _surely_ Dean had told her - surely Dean didn't think - "Couldn't she see from your memories that it wasn't like that?"

"Apparently no one ever thinks it's 'like that'," Dean said, his voice edged with bitterness. "She made a real convincing case."

"I was the one who fucking_ started_ it," Sam protested in disbelief. "I was the one who -"

"You didn't exactly hear me telling you no, though, did you?" Dean reminded him. "We were both fucked up, and you wanted - I don't know. I should have said no, I knew it damn well at the time."

"It's not like you _took advantage_ of me or something, you dumbass," Sam said. He could hear his voice getting louder, and was powerless to stop it. "Yeah, I was fucked up, but I knew what I was doing. I wanted - I wanted you. I wanted us. I wanted every fucking piece I could have because I knew I was losing you. And I thought you wanted that too."

Dean raised his head and met his gaze in the mirror again. "I did," he said, quiet. Then, quieter still, "Good."

Sam almost flinched at the expression in Dean's eyes. "I know things are different now," he added hastily. "I've... changed. And you... Jesus, Dean, you went to _Hell_ -"

Dean turned abruptly. "I know," he said. "I know it's all different now, and I'd never - Christ, Sam, whatever Bela fucking thought, believe me, I'd rather cut off my own hand than - don't worry."

He tried to brush past Sam towards the bathroom door, but Sam stopped him, palm flat against Dean's chest. He could feel his own heartbeat picking up, suddenly.

"I meant -" Sam said slowly, then took a breath and tried again. "I can understand why you don't want - that - any more. Me. After - everything," he clarified.

Dean was staring at him again.

"But that's not what you thought I meant," Sam continued wonderingly. Because for Dean to think - it made no sense, and yet, knowing his brother, perfect sense. "You thought I was saying I _don't_ want - Jesus, Dean." He could feel Dean's heartbeat picking up speed now beneath his palm, and that was _it_.

Sam leaned down and kissed him.

He could hear his own heart pounding wildly, because although this wasn't the first time he'd kissed Dean, in some ways it might as well have been - the same uncertainty as to whether Dean would punch him or kiss him back, the same question of _are we really doing this?_ And then Dean's mouth opened beneath his and his brother's hands came up to close around his arms, fingers pressing in hard, and yeah, they really were.

Sam pressed forward, shifting as close as he could, forcing Dean back against the sink unit. Dean didn't complain, didn't resist: his hands were dragging Sam even closer, fingers digging in almost painfully. Sam didn't mind because he _got it_, remembered hauling Dean as close as he could when he'd finally been convinced it was Dean and not something pretending to be him, and it hadn't felt close enough or safe enough. Not until now.

He ran his hands over as much of Dean as he could reach without breaking the kiss or Dean's desperate grip on his arms, exploring the planes of his brother's chest and the arch of his neck, greedy for everything. The past two months it had felt like Dean was always just out of his reach, even when they were touching. Maybe especially then. And now that distance between them was gone, and Sam couldn't get enough.

Dean kissed him desperately, and Sam could feel the same _need_ that he felt in his kiss.

He pressed one hand to Dean's face, used the other to rub Dean's arm, the one not marked by the angel's palm print, offering what reassurance he could. _I'm here. It's okay_.

Slowly, Dean's grip on his arms relaxed, and Sam hummed against his brother's lips, half-approving, half-encouraging. Dean's hands slid slowly down his arms, tentativeness gradually giving way to confidence, and Sam wanted to laugh and cry and never exist outside this moment.

He broke the kiss but didn't pull back, huffing out a breathless laugh when Dean's mouth shifted to his jaw, nipping and sucking. "Dean," he said, just to hear it. "_Dean_."

"Yeah," Dean answered, his voice rough. "Yeah, Sam." His hands had worked their way under Sam's shirt, and Sam shivered under his touch. Then Dean was tugging at the shirt, pulling it off without any regard for the buttons, and turning his attention to getting the rest of Sam's clothes off. Sam didn't resist but didn't help either, perfectly, gloriously content to let his brother strip him down, hands and mouth mapping each new expanse of skin as it was exposed. It was good, so good, and Sam felt as if some of the ghosts he'd barely realized he was carrying with him - _If I didn't know you, I'd want to hunt you_ \- were being laid to rest at last.

And almost as good was feeling Dean's hands grow more sure by the moment, like his brother had at last found something solid, something he _knew_ and could trust in. Sam leaned in and kissed Dean again, unable to stop himself, especially now he didn't have to, not any more.

He let his fingers explore Dean's skin again, restless with the heat flooding through him. Dean's body was familiar and yet not, so many of the landmarks Sam had known now gone. Sam couldn't help but miss his brother's scars and all the stories and moments that had once been sealed into his skin. He traced a line along Dean's left arm where a necromancer had once taken a knife to him, years and years ago. It had healed up well, so well that no one who didn't know it was there would have noticed it, but now it was gone entirely, except in Sam's memory.

Dean gave a little gasping sigh against his lips. "You remember."

Sam traced it again, with the edge of a fingernail this time, recreating the scar for a brief moment before the mark faded. "I remember all your scars. That one was from the necromancer in Pittsburgh. This one," he added, marking out a thin line around Dean's left wrist, feeling his brother's pulse fluttering beneath his touch, "this one was a witch who tied you up too tight."

Dean's eyes had slid shut, but he wasn't pulling away. Sam wondered for the first time whether his brother had felt like he'd lost something when he'd realized his scars were gone. Dean had just made some stupid joke about it and never mentioned it again, and it hadn't occurred to Sam until now that Dean might find it just as disorienting and unfamiliar as him.

"Here was the poker," Sam murmured, stooping down to press his lips to the spot, wincing even now at the memory of cleaning that wound and how much pain Dean had been in. He traced the edges of where the scar should have been with his tongue, smiling at the tremor he felt go through Dean's body. Dean's hands wound in his hair, holding him close, and Sam wanted this so much it hurt.

He kept going, marking the scars Dean had lost with his hands and his mouth, murmuring their stories against Dean's skin, loosing the towel around his brother's waist to trace where Dean had once been gashed by something with horns, they'd never figured out exactly what it was. Sam turned his brother gently so he could follow the mark all the way round, and Dean went unresistingly, his hands closing tightly on the edge of the sink.

Sam pressed his lips to where a bullet had once exited his brother's shoulder, then worked his way upwards. He hesitated for a moment before running one fingernail lightly over Dean's neck just above the hairline, then kissed the spot without whispering the cause of that tiny scar: Dean had always steadfastly refused to explain it. Sam half-expected his brother to tense up as he came to that one, but instead Dean just bowed his head, his breath hitching, and Sam pressed a final silent kiss to it and moved on.

Down across Dean's back, tracing his way over Dean's hips and lingering over his thighs, working his way slowly down one leg and back up the other. Sam mapped all the marks his brother had lost, remembering and refamiliarizing himself. He ignored the new mark on Dean's shoulder: there would be time enough for that one later. For now this was between them.

Sam straightened at last, plastering himself up against Dean's back and meeting Dean's eyes in the mirror, feeling his cock hard and urgent against his brother's skin. Dean pressed back against him, twisting his head round to kiss Sam, a kiss full of _need_ and_ want_, and Sam found himself moaning into Dean's mouth.

"Sam," Dean panted, breaking away just far enough to speak. "Sam, c'mon. Just - fuck me."

Sam's cock jerked at the words. _God_. He didn't bother asking Dean if he was sure, just reached out, fumbling blindly for his shaving kit and the half-empty tube of lube that he'd never been able to bring himself to throw out.

Dean was tight when Sam slipped a slick finger inside him, and Sam had a sudden flashback to Dean's ridiculous proclamation that he'd been 'rehymenated'. "Fuck," he whispered, biting his lip, and Dean hummed and pressed back against him impatiently until Sam pushed in another finger, then another.

"Dean," Sam said, talking just to hear the words, because _God_, he didn't know how he was meant to watch his brother like this and not go out of his mind. Dean was flushed and gasping and rocking back against Sam's fingers, eyes fluttering closed, and - "God, Dean, you look, you - you're really - _Dean_ -"

"Sammy," Dean hissed, shuddering. "Sam, just - come _on_, _now_."

Sam couldn't disobey that order, couldn't bring himself to wait any longer. He slicked himself up, and didn't bother to ask whether Dean was ready before slowly pushing his way in, eyes fastened to Dean's in the mirror.

_Oh god_.

Sam bowed his head, letting his forehead drop to the back of Dean's neck, and concentrated on breathing for a moment. Dean had tensed around him but was already relaxing again.

"Dean," Sam whispered, raising his head again to meet his brother's gaze in the mirror.

"Yeah," Dean murmured, not looking away. "I know."

Sam nodded jerkily, then began to move. He kept things slow and steady at first, not wanting to push Dean too hard, but any control he'd thought he had was an illusion; things quickly turned faster, harder, more desperate, Dean arching against his body and pushing back to meet him as Sam fucked into him. Sam closed his hand around his brother's cock, and Dean gave a strangled moan.

Sam couldn't get enough of it, any of it - the desperate, bitten-off sounds Dean was making, the insanely incredible feeling of being _inside_ his brother, the way Dean was shaking as Sam fisted his cock, the sight of them in the mirror. He didn't want it to end, ever, but he could feel his orgasm approaching, faster than he'd wanted but inescapable. He gritted his teeth, moaning as he tried to hold it back, but at that moment Dean went rigid, warm wetness spilling over Sam's hand, and that was _it_, Sam couldn't have held back a second longer for anything.

They collapsed forward against the sink, both gasping for breath, and Sam dazedly rested his head against Dean's, pressing kisses over as much of Dean's head as he could reach without moving. Dean was warm and solid beneath him, and for the first time in six months, Sam felt like he might finally be okay.

* * *

Sam opened his eyes and immediately stilled. Dean was lying next to him, eyes closed, face drawn with exhaustion. Sam had a dim memory of Dean waking with a nightmare in the middle of the night, of grabbing his arm to stop him from getting out of bed. Evidently his brother had stayed, but watching him now, Sam strongly suspected he hadn't gone back to sleep until a little while ago.

Sam wondered if this helplessness was how Dean had felt their first year back on the road together, when Sam's nightmares and visions had almost never let him sleep through the night. It sucked from both sides of the equation.

He propped himself up on one arm, moving as slowly as he could so as not to wake his brother, and studied Dean's face: the dark circles under his eyes, the new lines on his forehead. Dean was still a little too pale, stretched a little too thin, and Sam desperately wanted to fix it all, somehow; he wished he knew where to start.

He let his eyes drift down to the red mark on Dean's shoulder, resisting the temptation to reach out and touch it; he wasn't sure whether it was sensitive or painful or not, and either way, he didn't want to run the risk of waking Dean. His brother needed all the sleep he could get. It was good to be able to study it, though; he hadn't had much chance to do so, since Dean had developed a habit of sleeping fully dressed wherever he dropped.

Even now, when he'd met the angels for himself and discovered they were nothing like he'd imagined, he couldn't quite put aside the awe he felt, staring at the hand print. No matter if Uriel was an asshole; Castiel had brought him back his brother, and Sam could only be grateful for that.

He sighed softly and glanced at the clock. Maybe he ought to get up, go fetch coffee for when Dean woke up. But his brother wasn't sleeping deeply, and there was a real danger he would wake if Sam got out of bed.

He lay still instead and thought about everything that had happened the previous night. Things had moved too fast for him to ask Dean much about Bela and what her deal was. He wondered if she was likely to come after Dean again, or whether she'd steer clear of them both now. He reminded himself to ask his brother exactly what she was now - the possession thing and the sulfur suggested she was a demon, but the way he hadn't been able to exorcise her properly sounded more like a spirit.

He bit his lip at the thought of his attempt at exorcising Dean. His panic about Dean's likely reaction had been waylaid by the realization that there were other issues affecting his brother more, but that didn't mean that Dean wouldn't be pissed off about it. Sam wondered morbidly whether Dean would actually talk to him about it this time, or whether he'd clam up and pretend it had never even happened. Or there was always the chance that Dean would punch him again.

Sam's attention was drawn back to Dean as a tremor ran through his brother's body. He wanted to reach out, but that would likely have been a bad move even before Dean's trip Below; Sam didn't like to imagine the mayhem it would probably cause now.

"Dean," he murmured instead.

Dean gasped, his eyes snapping open, jerking up from the bed.

"Dean," Sam repeated, as soothingly as he could. "Hey. You were dreaming."

His brother groaned faintly and scrubbed a hand across his face. "Really."

Sam reached out now that his brother was awake, pretending not to notice the way Dean tensed for a split-second before relaxing under his touch. It seemed to calm him after a moment, though, and Dean didn't hesitate or pull away when Sam leaned in to kiss him.

"Where's my coffee?" Dean asked when he finally pulled back, and Sam couldn't suppress a laugh.

"Get up and we'll go grab some breakfast," Sam told him.

Dean muttered something that was probably agreement - Sam had noticed that though his brother's appetite in general appeared undiminished, the idea of food no longer seemed to hold much appeal for him when he first woke up - and rolled out of bed. Sam took a moment to appreciate Dean's body as he stretched, and followed suit.

* * *

The diner was packed, and Dean kept a sharp eye on the customers and staff. He'd liked busy places, before - liked being able to blend into the crowd, enjoyed the hubbub of voices. Now the noise wore on his nerves, but he plastered a smile on his face for the waitress and ordered a stack of pancakes and as much coffee as she could carry. Sam ordered pancakes too and then leaned back in the booth, one foot pressing against Dean's.

They sat in silence until the waitress brought the coffee. Dean wrapped his hands around his mug, let the warmth seep into him, and allowed himself to believe that it was going to be a better day than yesterday.

"So," Sam said finally, and for a moment Dean was worried he was going to press him about his nightmares and his memories again, but his brother went on, "do we need to worry about any more attacks around here?"

Dean relaxed again, and thought about it. "Don't think so," he answered finally. "She decided against taking me out, maybe that convinced her she couldn't be sure enough to kill people." Even though he couldn't find it in himself to feel any kind of sorrow for the deaths of people like Dunbar, he knew they'd have to try to stop her if she did carry on trying to murder people. The very fact that she'd gone after him when his relationship with Sam wasn't abusive - maybe unhealthy, maybe seriously fucked up even by Winchester standards, but not abusive - if she could make that kind of mistake, then they couldn't rely on all her victims being people like Dunbar.

Sam nodded, accepting his judgment, and held back on whatever he'd been about to say as the waitress returned with their pancakes.

Dean dug in gratefully, feeling his appetite come back properly at the smell. "We saw each other," he said, no idea he was going to say it until the words were out.

Sam froze, fork in mid-air, eyeing him cautiously. "Below?"

Dean nodded. He wasn't sure what else to say - hadn't even meant to tell Sam that much about it - so he looked back down at his plate and concentrated on stuffing himself with pancake. Slowly, Sam followed suit.

"So," Sam said carefully several minutes later, having probably concluded Dean wasn't about to say anything more about that. "What exactly is she now? A demon, like Ruby? Or..."

"Damned soul that's escaped the Pit," Dean said around a mouthful of pancake. "Seems like she's somewhere between a vengeful spirit and a demon. I don't know."

Sam frowned thoughtfully. "Do we..." He trailed off uncertainly, and Dean looked up from his pancakes, immediately on his guard. Sam sighed when he saw Dean looking at him. "Do we need to send her back?"

Dean froze for a second - _I can throw you back in_ \- before painfully swallowing his mouthful of pancake.

"No," he said when he could trust his voice. He grabbed his mug of coffee and took a long drink rather than meeting Sam's eyes.

"You sure?" Sam asked. "Just... she's killed a lot of people, even if you don't think she's going to take anyone else out right away. And she was way too close to hurting you -"

"Sam," Dean cut him off. His voice sounded strange in his own ears. "We're not sending her back down there, you hear me? She doesn't deserve that. She's not _evil_."

"Halfway between a vengeful spirit and a demon, you said," Sam reminded him. "I'm not arguing with you, Dean - if you think it's not necessary, then fine. I just - she almost killed you. It worries me."

"Yeah, well," Dean said. "It's not necessary."

"Okay," Sam said readily, and that was that.

Dean turned his attention back to his pancakes, but his appetite was gone.


	3. Chapter 3

"So where next?" Sam asked as they walked back to the motel. "Do we have another job lined up?"

"We could call Bobby and ask him if he has anything for us," Dean said. He still didn't sound completely back to normal, and Sam almost regretted asking the questions he had, even though he'd needed to know the answers.

And though he hated to raise the subject again, even indirectly... "We should tell him about Bela," Sam said. "He'll want to know if we figured out what was up with the sulfur anyway."

Dean frowned but didn't argue. "Whatever. We can't skip town quite yet, though. There's something else we've got to do first."

Sam looked at him sideways, and knew at once from the expression on Dean's face what his brother was referring to. _I should have thought of that already_, he told himself. "Which do you think will work best? Posing as FBI agents and going in to speak to the police chief again? Or calling with an anonymous tip?"

Something in Dean's face eased. "We should speak to him, I guess. Too much of a risk of an anonymous tip being ignored, and we need to make sure the kids who are still alive get help."

"Yeah," Sam agreed, digging the room key out of his pocket. "Let's call Bobby first, then we can go do that while he digs up the details on anything he's got for us." He turned the key in the lock and opened the door.

"Sounds like a -" Dean cut off abruptly.

Sam's own hand was already on his gun before his mind caught up with what he was seeing. Uriel was standing inside their motel room, next to the window. He didn't bother turning to look at them.

Sam exchanged a glance with Dean - _dick_, he was pretty sure they were both thinking - and Dean shut the door behind them.

"So what's up?" Dean asked, his voice overly casual. Sam winced a little at his brother's brash manner, but considering the way his own conversation with Uriel had gone a few days ago, Sam was just as happy to let Dean take the lead for now.

Uriel still hadn't turned around. Sam wondered why the hell he'd come to them if he was planning to ignore them. And if he wanted them to do something - well, ignoring Dean's questions was never the best way of getting him on board.

"Dude, I hope you don't just have a thing for hanging out in dark motel rooms," Dean continued, seeming not to give a damn whether he pissed the angel off or not. He shrugged off his jacket and tossed it on one of the beds. "Because if you do, there's this motel half a mile down the road that rents rooms by the hour, you might get more action there -"

"Is there a reason you came to see us?" Sam cut in, changing his mind. Maybe he didn't want Dean handling this after all, not if his brother was going to bring up sex in front of a smite-happy angel while standing in a room where they'd committed more sins together than he could count the night before.

His back still to them, Uriel said, "I have come to bring you news."

Dean looked wary, but his tone was no less casually insolent when he said, "I'm guessing it's not tidings of great comfort and joy, right? You don't really seem the comfort and joy type."

Uriel turned around and looked Dean directly in the eye. "We have lost Castiel."

Sam saw his brother's face freeze and turn completely blank. There was silence for a moment.

"What happened?" Sam asked finally. He wasn't sure what to feel. The angels might be dicks, but Castiel had seemed less so than Uriel. And he'd brought Dean back. That was something Sam would never stop being grateful for.

"It is not your concern," Uriel said. He cast a hard look in Sam's direction, and Sam suddenly remembered that he had more to worry about than just the sex; there was the not-so-little matter of him having tried to exorcise Dean with his mind the night before, too. He wondered if Uriel knew.

"Not our _concern_?" Dean echoed. His voice was low and dangerous. "You turn up here and tell me he's dead and it's none of my _concern_?"

"There is work to be done," Uriel told him. "You will journey to Marietta, in your state of Ohio, and -"

Dean laughed, ugly and unamused. "You're the one who's not _concerned_. You really don't give a damn, do you? He was your _brother_, but you don't -"

Sam caught his breath, because Uriel was suddenly right up in Dean's face, looking taller and sterner and more alarming. Sam desperately wanted to move next to his brother, to help back him up, but he didn't dare in case that one movement was what it took for Uriel to start turning people to dust.

"A war is raging," Uriel said, looming over Dean. "Castiel was a soldier in that war, and he willingly sacrificed all to it. Yes, he was my brother - something beyond your comprehension. But the war has not stopped because of his sacrifice. And you have a part to play in it. _Do as you're told_."

Then he was abruptly gone, between one blink and the next, and Sam slowly released his breath and sat down on the nearest bed. "Holy shit."

Dean hadn't moved, his face still blank.

"I seriously thought he was going to smite you where you stood," Sam said. He felt slightly hysterical with relief that Uriel hadn't. He studied Dean's expression. "You okay?" he asked finally, when Dean still didn't say anything. Sam wasn't sure what to say, exactly; he had a feeling there wasn't any kind of Hallmark-approved standard saying for "Sorry you lost your guardian angel".

Dean's expression still hadn't changed. "Yeah." He paused and turned his head approximately in Sam's direction, without ever actually looking at him. "You, uh. You should go talk to the police chief. I'm just gonna..." He trailed off.

Sam frowned slightly, but nodded. "Yeah, okay." He wished he knew exactly what Dean was planning to do, but he could understand his brother needing some space. That didn't mean he was happy about it.

Dean nodded and picked his jacket back up off the bed, shrugging into it.

"Dean," Sam said suddenly, as his brother opened the door. He wanted to tell Dean not to go off alone, but he swallowed the words down and said simply, "Just keep your phone turned on, okay?"

His brother raised a hand in acknowledgement and left. Sam listened and heard the sound of the Impala's engine starting.

He sighed and got up to change into a suit. Maybe Dean would be back by the time he was done speaking with the police chief.

* * *

Dean drove.

He wasn't sure where he was going; he'd just needed to get out of the motel room. It wasn't so much Sam he needed space from, though he wasn't sure he could take any of his brother's questions right now - he'd just needed to get away.

The sun was shining, the air was cool but not yet proper bone-deep winter cold, and Castiel was dead.

Dean had known in theory that angels could be killed - Castiel had mentioned as much - but for some reason he'd never thought that it would happen to Castiel. This was a war, though ,yadda yadda yadda. It probably shouldn't have surprised him.

What did surprise him was how much it bothered him.

The angel could be an asshole sometimes, and Dean still hadn't completely trusted him, but...

He blinked, belatedly taking in his surroundings, and felt a chill run down his spine. He'd driven entirely on autopilot, without considering where he was going, but now that he was paying attention, he recognized the boarded-up building all too well. This was where he'd stopped for supplies and Castiel had shattered all the glass by trying to speak to him.

Which meant that just down the road was...

He drove on, taking the car as far as he could, then left it and continued on foot. It wasn't far to walk, when he wasn't staggering on numb legs and desperately thirsty.

The grave site wasn't exactly hard to find, with all the downed trees surrounding it. It looked much the same as Dean remembered it, and he had a feeling that no one had been there, that maybe the power of what Castiel had done kept people away, or just made them not want to come too close. It was achingly silent.

When he'd first crawled out of the grave, he'd told himself he could feel darkness in the clearing, convinced that only some seriously bad mojo could have brought him back. He'd been somehow half-expecting that knowing what he did now, he'd be able to feel goodness. Holiness, maybe. Peace and light and all that shit - Dean wasn't really sure. But all he could feel was a lingering echo of the level of power that must have been involved in bringing him back, and it didn't feel light or dark, just... immensely strong.

Dean sighed and looked around again. Part of him still couldn't really believe Castiel was dead. The mark on his shoulder was still there, still tingling faintly, and Dean wished he could believe that meant something. But he'd seen something in Uriel's eyes when he'd provoked him, a flash of the closest thing to genuine emotion Dean had seen him display yet. Dean knew a thing or seven about grief, enough to recognize it when he saw it, even in a being that wasn't even close to human.

Angels could be dicks sometimes, yeah, and Castiel had had his fair share of that. But he'd also warned Uriel off and given Dean a chance to save a town. He'd shaken Sam's hand, once he'd realized what it meant to him. He'd told Dean that he had his own doubts and questions.

He'd pulled Dean out of Hell. And though Dean's memories of that were still skittish, sliding out of reach when he tried to look at them too closely, he remembered enough. There had been a great light in the darkness.

And now it was gone.

Dean sighed again. He felt like he ought to say something, but there was nothing to say. It wasn't as though Castiel would be able to hear, anyway. Dean was pretty sure there wasn't anything like an afterlife for angels.

* * *

When Dean got back to the motel room, Sam was waiting, looking up sharply from his laptop at the sound of the door. Dean didn't miss the quickly masked flash of relief that passed over his brother's face.

"Hey," Sam said neutrally.

Dean shut the door and took off his jacket. "Hey. How'd it go with the police chief?"

Sam was watching him steadily. "It went fine. He was very grateful for the warning - he's going to investigate and make sure the kids involved get help."

"Good," Dean said, and meant it. "Did you call Bobby?"

"Not yet," Sam said. "I thought you might want to talk to him too."

Dean shrugged, setting his keys down on the table. "Sure, why not." He dropped down onto the nearest chair.

"Dean..." Sam half-turned in his seat to face him, reaching out to touch his arm, and Dean almost shied away for a moment before he remembered the night before, that things had changed. He sighed silently and let Sam touch him.

Dean hadn't been stupid enough to think that the two of them falling into bed with each other again would solve everything - maybe not even anything - but it had made a difference. Something that had been _wrong_ had slotted back into place, and even though things were still fucked up, they were better than they had been. _He_ was better than he had been, better able to deal with all the other shit.

That didn't mean it wasn't still going to take a while to get used to, though.

"You been checking out the town he mentioned?" Dean said, before Sam could move on to asking any questions he wasn't ready to answer.

Sam sighed and withdrew his hand. "Yeah. Marietta, Ohio. Population of about fifteen thousand. It was the first organized settlement in the Northwest Territory. But I haven't found anything so far that would explain why Uriel wants us to go there, nothing that obviously screams 'Seal'."

"I guess it could be anything," Dean muttered. "Great."

"Bobby might have some ideas," Sam offered.

Dean nodded and stood up. "Go ahead and call him."

He made a pit-stop in the bathroom while Sam was dialing, splashed some water on his face and tried to avoid looking at himself in the mirror. When he emerged again, Sam held out the phone, and Dean took it, ignoring the way Sam's eyes were following his every movement. "Hey, Bobby."

"Sam tells me you ran into Bela Talbot," Bobby said without preamble.

Dean winced. "To be honest, it was more like she ran into me."

"She made it out of the Pit?" Bobby sounded incredulous.

"Yeah," Dean said. He sat down on the edge of the nearest bed and let himself sink back until he was staring up at the ceiling. "She's not a demon. Not yet, at least." He hadn't had a chance to think properly about that, yet - the darkness he'd sensed in her. He wondered if it was inside him, too; wondered just how close he'd come to becoming a demon himself.

"I'll keep an eye out," Bobby said. "See if I can pick up anything 'bout what trouble she's stirring up now."

"Thanks," Dean said.

He was about to pass the phone back to Sam when Bobby added gruffly, "Sorry to hear about the angel."

Dean didn't know what to say to that. "Yeah," he agreed finally. "Here's Sam again."

Sam took the phone back. "Hey, Bobby. Does Marietta, Ohio, ring any bells for you? Apparently that's where we're going next. No, no idea. I'm guessing so, but..."

Dean tuned out the rest of the conversation, and sat up and grabbed the laptop instead, pulling up Google Maps to check out the best route to the town.

"Okay, thanks, Bobby," Sam said finally. "Yeah, you too." He hung up and looked across at Dean. "Bobby doesn't know anything about Marietta off the top of his head, but he's going to do a bit of digging and call us back."

"Awesome," Dean said. "Let's get out of this goddamn town."

* * *

Sam was glad to put Pontiac in their rearview, though he suspected maybe not quite as glad as Dean. His brother was driving faster than usual, and he didn't let up on the gas until Pontiac was fifty miles behind them.

Sam didn't try to talk at first, just let Dean drive until the tension started to seep out of his brother's shoulders. By the time Dean started to hum along with Metallica, Sam figured it was safer to open his mouth.

"Where do you suppose Bela went?" he asked. Better to start off with the easier topics of conversation: he knew that if he approached Dean head-on and asked him straight out where he'd gone and whether he was okay, he'd only get bullshit in response.

But even that question might not have been judged carefully enough, given the way his brother tensed again.

"Don't know," Dean replied finally, and Sam masked his relief that he'd gotten a reply at all. He was surprised when Dean added, "Gone after Lilith, maybe."

Sam looked at him. "Did she tell you that?"

"Told me she wants her dead," Dean said impassively. "But it's just a guess."

Sam considered that, frowning. "I don't think she'd stand much of a chance if she did go up against her."

Dean shrugged. "Don't think she's got that much to lose any more. But anyway, you know Bela - not so much looking out for number one as just never heard of any other number. She'll look after herself."

Sam nodded thoughtfully, watching his brother, and decided against pressing any more for now. "You want to stop for something to eat soon?"

Dean's fingers relaxed their grip on the steering wheel. "Yeah, I could eat."

By the time they finally arrived in Marietta, it was late. Sam booted up the laptop half-heartedly once they'd checked into a motel, but he was too tired to get anywhere with research, and soon shut it down again. He scrubbed at his eyes.

"You should sleep," Dean told him. He was on his second beer, flipping idly through TV channels. Sam wasn't fooled: he could see the shadows under Dean's eyes, the tiredness written in the way he was slumped against the headboard. Dean's hands might not be shaking yet, but he was exhausted.

"So should you," Sam said quietly.

Dean shot him a mirthless grin. "Nah, I'm not tired yet."

"Yeah, sure," Sam muttered. He hadn't really expected anything else; Dean had been like this ever since he came back, putting off going to bed until he finally fell asleep wherever he was sitting at the time. Sam had lost count of the times he'd ended up covering his brother with a coat or a blanket when he got up himself to meet Ruby. But Dean couldn't go on like this indefinitely. Even if he was reliving what had happened to him in Hell while he slept, he still needed sleep.

Sam got up and grabbed a beer for himself, feeling Dean's eyes on him as he tilted his head back to swallow. Dean looked back at the television, but Sam stripped off his shirt and tossed it onto the other bed, feeling Dean's gaze shift back to him. He hid a grin and headed over to Dean's bed.

"Anything worth watching?" Sam asked, nodding in the direction of the TV. He sat down next to Dean, tapping his beer bottle against his brother's.

Dean was watching him. "Tell me you're not doing what I think you're doing."

Sam grinned openly at him. "Is it working?" He tilted his head back and took another long swallow of beer.

Dean muttered something that sounded like 'smug asshole'. Sam ignored him and set his beer down on the bedside table so he could stretch, interlacing his fingers and pushing them up as far above his head as he could, the stretch feeling good after the hours spent in the car.

The feeling of Dean's hands coming to rest on his sides, then sliding up, smoothing over the muscles as they trailed up his arms - well, that felt even better. Then Dean was kissing him, hard and hot and just a bit wondering, and Sam forgot about everything else.

Afterwards, Dean fell asleep right away. Sam wasn't surprised - he'd suspected that the second Dean let his guard down, he'd pass out. He wasn't stupid enough to think that this would mean Dean would sleep through the night, or that the nightmares would stay away, but it might mean his brother got an extra hour or two of sleep, and that was a start. One step at a time.

He tugged the covers over them both and let his eyes slide shut at last.

* * *

_Blood pain fear darkness_ -

Dean opened his eyes, biting back a gasp.

It was still dark, but pale light was starting to filter in through the gap beneath the curtains. Sam was still asleep beside him, looking so much younger as he dozed. Dean watched him for a moment, then forced himself to slip out of bed, being as careful as he could so as not to wake his brother.

The clock showed it was almost seven. He'd slept for almost three hours that time, Dean realized with surprise. Maybe Sam had had a point last night, the smug bastard.

He grabbed a shower and then scribbled a quick note for Sam.

By the time he got back with coffee and breakfast, Sam was just stirring, though he sat up abruptly when Dean wasn't quiet enough closing the door behind him.

"Sorry," Dean said, and passed Sam his girly coffee by way of apology. "Here."

"Thanks," Sam said, pushing his hair back. "How did you sleep?"

A glib response was on the tip of Dean's tongue, but Sam's expression was so cautiously hopeful that instead he sighed and said, "Not too bad. How early do you reckon is too early to call Bobby?"

Sam was studying him seriously, but he seemed to know better than to push for more than that, and accepted the change of subject. "I'd give it another hour or so, maybe."

Dean nodded, and sat down at the table with the laptop, munching on his bagel.

By the time Sam had gotten up and showered, Dean was about ready to rule out anything supernatural going on in the town. No mysterious deaths recently, or even anything too suspicious in the past several years. No weird weather or other signs of demonic activity. No strange news reports. Oh, there were a few bullshit websites offering ghost tours or whatever, claiming the place had plenty of hauntings, but there was nothing to suggest it was anything more than a tourist trap.

"Nada," he told Sam with a certain amount of disgust. "Seriously, dude. There's nothing here."

"Maybe -" Sam started, but the ringing of his cell cut him off. Dean watched and wasn't surprised when Sam hung up a few minutes later and said, "Yeah, Bobby says there's nothing here too."

Dean threw his hands up in vindicated disgust. "That's what I'm sayin'."

"Not now," Uriel said.

Dean whirled round to see Uriel standing next to the door. He saw Sam jump out of the corner of his eye, and felt somewhat better for not having been the only one caught off-guard. He still hadn't gotten used to the angels' habit of appearing and disappearing without any warning at all.

"Not now?" Sam asked cautiously.

"A witch lived here for several hundred years, a long time ago," Uriel said, his voice edged with distaste. "She had gained abilities, powers, in exchange for giving her soul to a demon."

"We know what the word 'witch' means," Dean told him, mostly to draw Uriel's entirely unsubtle glare away from Sam.

It worked. Uriel turned his glare on him and took a step in his direction. "This was not the usual kind of witch. She found a way to kill herself without going to Hell. She did not become a demon: she merely died."

"Awesome," Dean said. "So everyone's happy. Except apparently you, but that's nothing new."

Uriel ignored him, which was also nothing new. "The witch knew the location and nature of one of the Seals."

_Finally_, Dean thought. "Now we're getting to it. You don't know what the Seal is. Castiel -" His voice didn't waver on the name, and Dean was glad of that. "- told me that he didn't know what all the Seals are. Neither do you."

"We need to find out what the Seal is in order to defend it," Uriel said, ignoring him again.

Sam was frowning. "How are we meant to do that if she's dead?"

Dean had a sudden premonition. "Tell me you're not making us do the timewarp again."

Sam shot him another 'Please shut the hell up so he won't smite you' look, which Dean ignored.

"If you mean sending you back in time, then no, I have no intention of doing so," Uriel said. "I do not waste my time on such things."

Dean thought about pointing out that it wasn't exactly like he'd be losing any time, but thought the better of it; he was pretty sure that wasn't what Uriel meant. "Fine. Then how are we supposed to find out about the Seal?"

"Find the witch's remains," Uriel ordered. "There are ways to raise her spirit and obtain the information from it. I suggest you act quickly."

Dean opened his mouth to ask another question, but Uriel was already gone. He released a long, annoyed breath and looked at his brother.

Sam sat down on the edge of the bed, frowning as he met Dean's gaze. "Do you have to keep provoking him?"

"Yes," Dean said bluntly. "He's a dick. It's what I do."

Sam shook his head but didn't argue.

"How the hell are we supposed to find the witch's remains?" Dean wondered. If there had been anything obvious, he was pretty sure they or Bobby would have found it in their initial research on the town. They'd concentrated more on recent stuff, sure, but he hadn't found anything about witchcraft in the town's history either.

"And what did he mean about raising her spirit," Sam said, not really a question. "That's - that sort of thing, Dean, it's dark magic."

Dean looked at him. He wanted to say that Uriel was an angel, that he couldn't have that in mind, but he'd heard Uriel argue for the destruction of an entire town, and he wasn't completely sure that Uriel _wouldn't_ be willing to engage in dark magic if that was what it took.

"Maybe he knows a different way of doing it," Dean said finally. "Maybe it's some kind of angelic power. First things first, Sam."

Sam nodded uncertainly. "Okay. I guess I'm going to call Bobby back."

Dean did some more research online while Sam spoke to Bobby, concentrating on sites about local history and historical cases of witchcraft in that part of the country. The witchcraft side of things was drawing a huge blank, though, so he turned his full attention to the history of the town.

Damn, but he hated research. Particularly when asshole angels didn't feel the need to give them enough details about what they were looking for.

Sam finally hung up. "Bobby didn't find any cases of witchcraft around here in his research before, but he's going to have another look," he said. "And... Bobby doesn't know any way to raise a spirit without tangling with some seriously dark stuff, either."

Dean nodded, not entirely surprised. "Yeah, okay. I'm drawing a blank too. Maybe our best bet is to check out the cemetery, see if there's anything obviously suspicious there."

Sam looked unconvinced. "If she was a witch, do you really think they'd have buried her in the town cemetery?"

"Not if they knew she was a witch," Dean agreed. "But she must have kept one hell of a low profile if she lived around here for hundreds of years without there being any record of witchcraft or _something_. Maybe no one knew."

"Some witch," Sam muttered.

"You got a better plan?" Dean asked him.

Sam sighed. "No. No, let's try the cemetery first."

Dean nodded, and went to grab the EMF meter.

* * *

They started off at the Mound Cemetery, the oldest graveyard in the town. Dean was dubious, though; even the bullshit local paranormal websites he'd read had seemed convinced there was nothing spooky going on at this cemetery, despite its history and the Native American mound from which it drew its name.

"Uriel didn't say she'd be haunting her remains," Sam reminded him. "In fact, it sounded more like she's at peace. There might not be any supernatural signs involving her grave."

"Awesome," Dean muttered. "The EMF meter might turn up something anyway, though. A witch as old and powerful as that? That's going to leave a mark."

Sam shrugged, conceding the point, and they split up to check the place out. When they met up again at the exit, Sam simply shook his head, and Dean nodded, not really surprised.

It took them a couple of hours to check out the town's other cemeteries, but with no luck. Eventually they decided to grab some lunch and think about what to try next.

"We should look at the town's records," Sam suggested. "Maybe we can figure out where she might have lived. Or one of the museums might help, too."

Dean rubbed his forehead. He felt exhausted just thinking about the boredom that lay ahead. "Great. That sounds exciting."

It turned out to be every bit as exciting as he'd suspected, but - thank Christ - quite a bit shorter. They managed to get copies of some old maps of the town and the surrounding area, and set about marking out on them where the current town was by comparison.

"I'm guessing her remains won't be in the actual town," Dean said, marking out boundaries. "Someone would have stumbled across them by now, or they'd have been destroyed. Or they'd have been found and moved to a proper graveyard."

"The town's larger than it used to be," Sam said thoughtfully. "That means we're ruling out a lot of what would have been the surrounding area, too."

"Exactly," Dean said. He compared the map he was looking at with one for the same area, but made a century earlier. "Look." He tapped his pencil on an area of the map. "There are a few buildings marked on both of these maps, out in this area - far enough outside the town that no one might have dug up her remains, if she was buried there."

Sam nodded, his lips pursed. "Buildings that were evidently there for at least a hundred years or so. It's worth a try."

There was nothing left at the first site they checked out - nothing to indicate that a building had once stood there. They scanned the area with an EMF meter, but it remained stubbornly silent.

"We don't even know for certain the remains will give off EMF," Sam pointed out yet again, looking around dispiritedly. "This could be the place and we'd have no way to know."

Dean shook his head. "Okay, so maybe her remains won't set off the EMF meter, but we're looking for the place she lived, dude. If she lived somewhere for hundreds of years, there's no way you're convincing me she was just... sitting around doing the crossword all that time. Just keeping herself alive and disguised for that long would have taken a shitload of power, and there's got to be traces of that left."

He was proved right when the EMF meter squealed even as they walked up the hill to the second site. He shot a meaningful look at Sam and they walked on more slowly, looking around carefully for any indications of what might have happened there in the past.

The building that had once stood at the top of the hill was long gone, of course. There were still a few scattered stones that looked like they might have been part of the walls, but nothing more. The EMF meter squealed wherever they pointed it, and Dean knew they were in the right place.

"Okay," Sam said, looking around. "Where do you think her remains would be?"

Dean looked around too, and started slowly walking around the rest of the area, EMF meter in hand.

Sam called him over after a minute, and Dean took a look at what his brother had found. A large, worn grey stone in the ground. It didn't exactly look like a grave marker, but...

"It's been a long time," Sam pointed out, as if reading his mind. "It's been worn down, and the ground's changed. Though, thinking about it, if she was a witch, whoever buried her probably didn't have the chance to get a proper grave marker, just a stone."

Dean held the EMF meter over the stone and the ground around it, wincing when the meter screamed. "Yeah, well. Either way, I think this might be the spot."

They returned to the Impala to pick up the shovels. Sam looked thoughtful on the way back up.

"I wonder who buried her," he said finally.

Dean looked at him in confusion. "What?"

"Who buried her?" Sam repeated. "If she lived alone, and no one even knew they had a witch up here - I wonder who buried her when she died."

Dean thought about it. "Maybe some people knew her, even if they didn't know what she was."

Sam nodded, but still looked thoughtful.

Digging up a grave was something Dean was more than familiar with, but it was strange, this time. They hadn't done a straightforward salt-and-burn since he'd come back; the last grave he'd been in was his own. It was hard not to think about that as he dug down into the earth here.

"I wonder how Uriel plans to raise her," Sam said.

Dean was startled out of his morbid thoughts. "I guess we'll find out."

"What the _fuck _are you doing?"

Dean spun around, reaching for the shotgun he'd left at the side of the hole, and gave a disgusted sigh when he saw who it was.

"Ruby," Sam said, sounding equally surprised. "What are you doing here?"

Ruby looked from Dean to Sam. Her expression was furious. "I asked you the same fucking question, Sam. What the hell do you think you're doing?"

Sam climbed up out of the hole they'd dug. Dean followed him out.

"We were told -" Sam started.

"Sam," Dean interrupted. He knew Sam trusted Ruby, for some reason - he really didn't want to think too hard about what the reason might be - but Dean didn't. And he was pretty damn sure Uriel wasn't the kind of angel who'd be okay with Sam spilling his guts to a demon.

Sam shot him a glare and turned back to Ruby. "We were told to look for a witch's remains. There's a chance she knew about one of the Seals, and the angels want to try to recover the information."

Dean rolled his eyes. Awesome.

"'Recover the information'?" Ruby repeated, sounding incredulous. "What were you going to do, try a little necromancy? Maybe follow in Lilith's footsteps, raise her the way Lilith did the Witnesses? Have a little seance over the grave?"

Sam was frowning. "Ruby, what's wrong? What are you doing here?"

Dean had a sudden flash of

\- _red black pain laughter 'Sorry, Dean'_ -

and found himself staring at Ruby with new eyes, feeling more memories hit him. She'd...

_The bitch_.

"The witch you're planning to raise? Like she was nothing?" Ruby said, pacing back towards the stones that marked where the house had once stood, before turning to glare at them both again. "She was my sister."

Sam took an involuntary step towards her before stopping. "What?"

"You already know I was a witch," Ruby said.

Dean did remember that - remembered the demon that had nearly killed all three of them. Dean remembered a lot of things, and none of them were making him more inclined to listen to anything Ruby wanted to say.

"Your sister was a witch too?" Sam asked.

"We took up witchcraft together," Ruby said. "It was the time of the Plague, and things were... maybe it wasn't the Apocalypse, but it damn well felt like it. Everyone was dying. This woman came and promised she could show us how to save the lives of our family, our friends... we said yes, and we never regretted it, even later, when we figured out what we'd gotten ourselves into."

Dean gritted his teeth. He could hear the truth in her voice, even though he didn't want to. "So you sold your souls."

Ruby glared at him. "It's just _killing _you to realize how much we've got in common, isn't it?"

"Oh, that's not what's killing me," Dean said, his voice low and deadly.

Sam shot a glance in his direction. "Dean, don't."

Dean shut up. _Let Sam handle her. I'm sure they'd both prefer it that way_.

"Things were fine for a while," Ruby said. "Then - well. I was killed, and I wound up Below." She met Dean's eyes for a moment before looking back at Sam. "I was there for a long time. A really, really long time. And eventually I became a demon."

"But your sister didn't," Sam said. "Uriel said she found a way -"

Ruby bared her teeth in something close to a snarl at the sound of Uriel's name. "My sister was very smart, and very powerful, and she lived for a very long time. She learned how to make weapons that could kill demons, and how to make wards that would keep even angels out. And one day, when she'd taken every precaution, she summoned me out of Hell."

Dean narrowed his eyes as Sam stiffened.

"You told me -" Sam said, his voice tight. "You told me it couldn't be done. You told me you couldn't help me with that."

Ruby sighed, her furious expression softening for the first time. "I didn't lie to you, Sam. What she did - it doesn't work on damned souls. And I was pretty sure waiting until your brother had become a demon and then setting him loose on the world wasn't what you had in mind."

Dean had had just about enough of listening to all of this. "Your sister knew about one of the Seals," he said, turning the conversation back to the real issue.

Ruby looked at him, then at the hole in the ground behind them. "She never told me how she found out, whether someone told her or whether it was something she figured out when she was learning about demons and angels and all the other stuff. But someone found out that she knew, and then she had demons chasing her, angels too. She hid the best she could, but she knew she couldn't hide forever."

"And that's when she summoned you back," Sam said.

"Yes," Ruby said. "She summoned me. She knew I wasn't... like the other demons. Maybe that was her doing, somehow - I don't know, she never told me. She summoned me, and warned me, and told me about the Seal. And then she killed herself with her own knife."

"Your knife," Sam said softly.

"Mine now," Ruby agreed. "Or at least it was, until you took it."

"I'm sorry, Ruby," Sam said.

He was giving her his dewy-eyed 'let me hug you' look, and Dean wanted to shake him until he woke up to the fact that she was a _demon. _

"Nice story," he said.

Sam shot him a reproachful look. "Dean..."

"She's a demon, Sam," Dean reminded him. "Demons lie. Funny how nothing in that story was her fault, huh? Hell, she even sold her soul for the greater good."

Ruby glared at him. "Yeah, as a matter of fact, I did. I saved lives, Dean. Hundreds, maybe thousands. And my sister did too, so if you think I'm going to let you disturb her rest now that she's finally free -"

"I don't see why I should believe a word you say," Dean said. "In fact, I still don't see why we shouldn't exorcise you right now."

"Dean," Sam said. There was an edge of anger in his voice. "She's not lying to us. I trust Ruby."

"Oh, yeah, I know just how much you _trust _her," Dean said.

Sam's gaze sharpened. "You believed Bela, didn't you? You wouldn't let me send her back to Hell. What's the difference?"

Dean glared at him. "Bela isn't a demon."

"Not yet," Sam said. "Not quite. But not far off it, either, you said so yourself."

Ruby glared at them both. "Just don't disturb my sister's rest," she said.

"That should no longer be necessary," Uriel said.

Dean turned in shock, but before he could say anything, Uriel had closed one hand around Ruby's neck and was holding her up in the air, cutting off her shocked half-scream.

"Ruby!" Sam yelled, lunging forward. "Let her -"

Uriel waved his other arm casually and Sam went flying, crashing to the ground where the house had once stood.

"HEY!" Dean yelled, and now he was the one moving forward. "Leave my brother the fuck alone!" He looked across at Sam, relieved to see he was already sitting up, even if he didn't look like standing was a go quite yet. Sam gave him a weak nod of reassurance, and Dean turned his attention back to Uriel.

"Tell me about the Seal, demon," Uriel was saying, not bothering to raise his voice.

Ruby was struggling against him, but it was very clear she would not be able to get free. "Go to... Hell," she managed to whisper around the grip on her throat.

Demon or not, Dean had to admire that.

"Why don't you let her down," he said. "This isn't helping."

"Don't interfere," Uriel told him sharply. "The Seal, demon!"

"This is what you wanted all along, isn't it?" Sam asked. "You weren't planning to raise her sister's spirit - you knew that if we came here and tried to dig up her body, Ruby would come to stop us. It was a trap."

"Either option would have been acceptable," Uriel said impassively. "We _need_ the information on the Seal."

"Why?" Dean asked slowly. "I mean, if she's the only who knows where it is, I'd be expecting you to want to kill her -"

"_Dean_," Sam hissed.

"- Not that I'm expressing any opinion on whether or not that would be an awesome thing," Dean amended. "I'm just sayin'. Ruby here is like you, a _big _fan of the Big Picture." He could almost feel the flaming knife she'd used to carve open his chest, and could see in the dark eyes she turned on him that she remembered it too. "I'm sure she'd see the sense in killing her so no one could ever find the Seal. If Lilith can't find it, no Apocalypse, right? But you want her to tell you, instead. How come?"

"More than 66..." Ruby fought out. "Only needs to _open _66."

Dean exchanged a look with Sam, seeing his own _Oh shit_ reaction reflected on his brother's face.

"That true?" he asked Uriel.

Uriel did not even spare a glance in his direction. "We believe there to be around 600 Seals. No one knows the exact number. It is difficult for us to defend so many."

"Then why pick on this one?" Sam asked. "Dean's right - if Ruby's the only one who knows where it is, then it's safe, it's out of the equation..."

Uriel actually did turn his head at that, his eyes focusing coldly on Sam. "An undefended Seal whose nature is known only to a demon. That is what you consider 'safe'?"

"You think Ruby's going to tell Lilith what the Seal is?" Dean asked, frowning. He didn't like Ruby, and he had a _lot _of good reasons for that, but...

"If she has not already done so," Uriel said. "Lilith is the one who released her from Hell again. There will have been a price for that."

Ruby's eyes met Dean's again. "Proved my... loyalty. Only way. Had to get back... help Sam."

Dean didn't look away. That was probably the closest thing he was ever going to get to an apology, he figured, or an excuse. And as excuses went, wanting to help Sam was about as good as she could possibly have offered.

Anyway, it wasn't like he was in a position to cast stones.

"Lilith... doesn't know," Ruby choked out. She was still struggling, but her face was starting to take on a blueish tinge.

"Witch," Uriel said, his voice all the more frightening for its quietness. "Tell me the nature of the seal, or I will send you back to the Pit."

"Might be best to tell him what he wants to know before he chokes the girl whose body you're wearing," Dean observed. He wasn't sure exactly which side he was on, here, but the girl for one didn't deserve this. "Uriel's a bit of a hardass."

"Let her go," Sam said sharply. He was struggling to his feet now, looking unsteady. "Ruby, why don't you want to tell us?"

"Can't - risk -" Ruby gasped out, then lost the battle to speak, fighting only for breath.

Okay, that was it. "Hey!" Dean said, stepping forward and grabbing the arm Uriel was using to hold her up in the air. "Enough's enough."

"This does not concern you," Uriel told him, still focused on Ruby.

The words echoed in Dean's mind. "Yeah, funny all the things that _don't concern me_, huh? Well, I'm making it my concern, so let her go!" He pulled on Uriel's arm as hard as he could.

Uriel turned on him, his face set in lines of anger, and Ruby took the opportunity to kick free from his grasp, managing to stagger back a few steps before her legs almost gave out. Sam was at her side before Uriel could grab her again, a hand under her elbow to keep her on her feet, and he pulled her away. After a couple of steps, she seemed to regain her balance, and then she was the one pulling Sam away, dragging him back the few feet to the space where the house had once been.

"Hey!" Dean said again, trying to keep Uriel's attention on him. It was funny how familiar the pattern felt, from so many cases where he'd tried to keep the bad guy's focus while Sam got the victims out of range.

Funny how it was an angel he was trying to distract so his brother could protect a demon. The world was a fucked-up place these days.

Uriel ignored him, advancing on Ruby and Sam. Sam was trying to back up further, but Ruby was holding him in place, shaking her head frantically as she continued gulping for breath.

Dean cast around and caught sight of his shotgun lying beside the hole they'd dug in the ground. Being shot hadn't slowed Castiel down, but maybe it would piss Uriel off enough to -

He didn't have a chance to try it. Uriel reached the stones that Dean had figured marked where the boundary of the house had once been, and drew up short. Not as if he'd suddenly thought better of his actions. As if he'd run into a wall he couldn't pass through.

_But he's an angel_, Dean thought in confusion, before he remembered something Ruby had said - that her sister had -

"She put up wards," Ruby said. Her voice was rough and strained, but very clear. "She knew your kind would come after her, and she found a way to stop even you from entering her home. You can't touch us here."

Uriel stared at her, his face frighteningly blank, and then slowly turned to look at Dean.

_Oh fuck_.

"Do you see now what you have achieved with your interference?" Uriel asked, his voice low and deadly. "Thanks to you, the demon goes free. A Seal remains unguarded and ready to fall into Lilith's hands."

Dean met his gaze. "Yeah, you've done a bang-up job of _guarding_ the Seals so far, haven't you? You ever think maybe she has a point and the Seal's safer _without _your lot drawing attention to it?"

He'd thought he'd pissed off Castiel once, when the angel had threatened to throw him back into Hell. Seeing Uriel now, Dean figured that maybe Castiel had only been mildly irritated after all.

Uriel advanced on him slowly. His eyes were shining far too brightly to be human. "And how many Seals have you stood back and allowed to be broken? Thanks to you, Samhain rose. Thanks to you, this Seal too is within Lilith's grasp. What have you done to justify being saved?"

It had been hard to face Castiel's annoyance; it was almost impossible to face Uriel's wrath. Dean did the best he could, standing his ground even as he was forced to angle his body so as not to face the angel head-on.

"_Dean_," Sam said frantically. Dean could see out of the corner of his eye that Ruby was holding his brother back. _Good_. He could tell that Sam wanted him to make a break for it, try to reach the safety of the ground protected by the wards. Only problem was, Dean was pretty damn sure he wouldn't make it that far.

The air seemed to be growing brighter.

"What have I done?" Dean repeated. "Well, I stopped you from incinerating an entire fucking town, for one thing -"

"You side with demons," Uriel said. "You interfere when I am interrogating a demon, and you show no remorse for your actions." His voice was edged with something _more_, not enough to make Dean's ears bleed yet, but more than just a warning.

Dean staggered a step backwards. "Yeah, well, see, from where I'm standing? There's not that much difference between the two of you. You're both doing fucking _inhuman_ things for whatever you happen to think is the greater good. She might be possessing some chick, but you nearly killed her just now. She did some fucking nasty things to get out from under Lilith's thumb, but you're happy to wipe out thousands of people just to slow her down -"

"You _dare_," Uriel said, and Dean grimaced as the sound cut through his head. Good thing there was no glass nearby this time.

"_Dean_!" Sam yelled again.

Dean started stepping sideways and back, towards where Sam and Ruby were crouching. "I may not know a hell of a lot about your kind, or your religion, or your _God_," he said. "But even I've heard about _judge not, lest you be judged_. Or what was that about _let him without sin cast the first stone_?"

"I am an angel of the Lord," Uriel said, and his voice was still quiet, but the not-voice shadowing his words was booming now, and the trees were shaking. "I do not sin, and you will not compare me to a demon."

"Save it for the folks in the cheap pews," Dean said, still moving carefully backwards. "Don't even try to tell me that isn't pride. And you're a little too hot-to-trot when it comes to smiting people and wiping out towns, dude. Sure sounds like wrath to me."

His back hit something solid, and pain flared through the palm-print on his shoulder. He risked a glance behind him in confusion. There was nothing but thin air behind him, and Sam's frantic, horrified face a few feet away. Dean saw the realization hit home on Sam's face at the same moment he figured it out himself.

_The wards_._ Fuck. The scar must be enough to trigger them._

"Castiel believed we needed you," Uriel said, and Dean pressed his hands to his ears, gasping. It didn't block out the sound of the angel's voice at all. "But not everyone agreed with him. And your actions have proved the doubters correct."

Dean sank slowly to his knees, cradling his head in agony.

He could hear Uriel's voice in his head now, not through his ears. "I believe you've outlived your usefulness to us, Dean Winchester. If it turns out I'm wrong and we need you later... we can always bring you back if required. I doubt you will be."

The light was blinding, burning, even with his eyes closed. White noise assaulted his ears, waves of sound pitched just too far outside his hearing range for him to feel more than the unbearable pressure building in his head. Dean knew he was screaming, even if he couldn't hear it, knew he must be rolling on the ground, but there was no escaping the pain pressing on him, the fire building in his shoulder.

He thought this might be what it was like to be at the center of the sun.

The hand-print on his shoulder was blazing with pain now, and it was spreading, moving into the rest of his body, and it was too much, _too much_...

And the world faded to white.

* * *

Ruby was yelling something, but Sam couldn't make out what it was over the sound assaulting his ears and the litany of _oh god oh god oh god **Dean**_ in his head. He tried to fight away from her grip, to get to his brother, but Ruby was inhumanly strong, even if she rarely bothered to use that demonic strength against him. She kept him pressed against the ground, clapping a hand over his eyes.

Then the light and sound became too much, and Sam couldn't even think any more, only cower in agony, feeling like it was going to drive him mad any second, _any second_ -

\- Until suddenly there was silence.

Sam lay still for a moment, gasping for air and shaking. His ears were ringing in the sudden silence. Fuck, that had been -

"_Dean_," he said, sitting up abruptly. He pulled Ruby's hand away from his eyes, and she let him move, let him look -

"Dean!"

Ruby caught his arm, using her demonic strength to hold him back. "Sam, no!"

Dean was lying curled up on the ground, unmoving, and Sam couldn't tell - "Ruby, let me go or I swear -"

"It might come back," Ruby said, her frantic tone penetrating for the first time. "Sam, it might not be gone, it might be waiting, you can't leave the wards -"

Sam fought free of her hold enough to read the edge of the wards, forcing her to move with him. But Dean had collapsed at the edge of where the house had once stood, and Sam was able to reach out with shaking hands and turn his brother over.

Dean was horribly pale, but he was breathing, and when Sam peeled back his brother's eyelids, his eyes were whole and seemingly unharmed.

"Fuck," Sam whispered. He couldn't stop shaking. "Dean. Dean, wake up, come on."

"It may take a while," Ruby said. She sounded just as shaken as he felt. "The wards shielded you and me from the worst of it."

"I thought it was trying to kill him," Sam said, running his hands over his brother's body, checking for injuries.

"It was," Ruby said. "Something protected him. He couldn't have survived that otherwise."

"Jesus, Dean," Sam muttered again, trying to slow the pounding of his heart.

"That's why I hate angels," Ruby said, almost to herself. "Smite first, talk later. Self-righteous assholes."

Sam took a deep breath. "We can't stay here forever."

"I _think_ it's gone," Ruby said uncertainly. "But I'm not going to step outside the wards here - I'm going to jump a long, long way away and hope the wards stop the angel from tracking me. I suggest you and Dean move fast. It didn't manage to kill him, so it probably won't try again, but you can never be sure with angels." She relaxed her grip on his shoulder.

Sam nodded, and turned his head to look at her properly for the first time since he'd seen Dean lying crumpled on the ground. "I'm sorry about your sister."

Ruby gave him a half-smile. "Yeah, well. It was a long time ago."

Sam hesitated, but he had to ask. "And the Seal?"

Ruby studied him, her smile fading. "Don't take this personally, Sam," she said after a moment. "But I'm not going to tell the angels, I'm not going to tell Lilith, I'm not going to tell your brother, and I'm not going to tell you, either. The last thing my sister ever asked of me was to protect that Seal. I'm not going to put it at risk."

Sam nodded slowly, accepting that. "Be careful."

Ruby gave him a twisted smile. "I always am. Try to steer clear of angry angels, Sam."

* * *

"Dean? Hey, you back with me?"

_Sam_.

"Dean. Hey, come on, open your eyes for me."

It took some doing, but it was worth it for the sight of Sam smiling goofily down at him. Then Dean remembered what had happened, and found himself surprised to discover he still _had_ eyes to open. Not to mention a body.

"What...?" he croaked.

"You remember us talking about how pissing off angels wasn't a good idea?" Sam told him. "Well, you pissed off Uriel."

Dean remembered that far more clearly than he would have liked. It was everything afterwards that was a huge blank.

He blinked a few times and pushed himself up to a sitting position, belatedly realizing that they were back at the motel and he was lying on their bed. Sam was perched next to him - _hovering_, Dean identified it immediately - reaching out with warm hands to help Dean sit up. Dean refrained from batting them away, just this once.

A jolt of pain passed through the hand-print on his shoulder, and he pressed his lips together until it passed. He turned his head to look at it. It didn't seem any redder than before, but Dean had a feeling he knew why he was still alive.

"Ruby held me back," Sam said. "I couldn't - and then it was over, and you were just _lying_ there, _Jesus_, Dean -"

"It's okay, Sammy," Dean said.

"He tried to kill you." Sam's voice was tight and strained. "That's not _okay_."

"Didn't manage it, though, did he?" Dean pointed out. "How the hell did we get back here?"

"He was just... gone," Sam said. "I dragged your ass back down the hill and brought you back here. You've been out for hours."

"You weren't hurt?" Dean asked, giving him a quick once-over. He guessed his brother had enough sense to shield his eyes, but Sam didn't have an angelic palm-print to protect him from shit like this.

Sam shook his head. "Took a while for my ears to stop ringing. But I think the wards protected us from the worst of it."

_Us_, Dean noted. "I'm guessing she's long gone."

"She didn't want to hang around, in case he came back," Sam said. "I hope he didn't manage to track wherever she jumped to."

Dean sighed and looked at his brother. "You trust her?"

Sam met his gaze. "With this? Yeah. Yeah, I do."

Dean nodded and looked away. He didn't know what exactly had gone on between his brother and Ruby while he was gone; wasn't really sure he wanted to. But he knew Sam, and that was enough.

He swung his legs round and stood up.

"Whoa, whoa," Sam exclaimed, making an abortive grab for him before stopping himself. "Dean -"

"We ought to hit the road," Dean said, ignoring the fact that he'd just had to grab hold of the bedside cabinet to stay upright.

"What? Why?" Sam asked. "It's late, you were out for hours, man. We should stay here tonight."

Dean glanced at the clock and was startled to see just how late it really was. Sam might have a point. Maybe even about giving his body a chance to recover. He didn't suppose too many people had ever survived a full-on angelic smiting.

"Yeah, well, I guess we're paid up until tomorrow anyway," he conceded. "No point in wasting the money."

Sam didn't call him on it. "You think you could sleep?"

"You keep telling me I was out for hours," Dean reminded him, though he was tired and sore and hadn't exactly had the best day ever. "But what the hell."

Once he was in bed, though, he found it impossible to drop off, even with Sam's warm weight pressed up close behind him, one arm around draped over his waist - for reassurance, Dean supposed, though whether his or Sam's he didn't know. Maybe both.

The hand-print on his shoulder still hurt, pulsing with pain, but it was slightly less than before, and Dean figured it was just part of whatever mojo it had worked earlier to protect him.

He wondered if Castiel had planned for it to do that, if it had been intended to protect him from other angels. It seemed unlikely, but then again, Castiel hadn't been quite like Uriel. Dean hadn't _understood _him, but he'd been starting to get to know him.

Now Castiel was gone, and Uriel had tried to kill him, and Dean was pretty sure that whatever weird idea they'd had about him having a role to play in protecting the Seals was dead and buried by now.

In a way it was a relief, knowing that probably wasn't on his shoulders any more. But at the same time...

At the same time, how was he meant to forget that the end of the world was extremely fucking nigh? How could he stop thinking about Hell on earth when he was still having nightmares and flashbacks to what exactly Hell meant?

Sam gave a sleepy little sigh behind him, and Dean forced his tense muscles to relax. So the angels didn't have a use for him and Sam any more? Why should that make any difference to him either way? He hadn't even believed in them until Castiel had dragged him up from Below. And lack of faith had never stopped him from doing what he could to fight evil sons of bitches. There was no reason why Lilith should be any different. Hell, maybe without angels acting like assholes and cooking up tests and tricks for them at every turn, they might be able to kick her ass.

Yeah, well. Anything was possible.

He pressed a hand against the palm-print on his shoulder, feeling the last of the pain starting to subside. He still wished Castiel hadn't died. The angel had had a dickish side, but Dean didn't think he'd ever have actually gone ahead and tried to smite him. And sometimes Dean could have sworn that the angel actually... cared. About humanity. About Sam. Even about Dean.

Dean closed his eyes and tried to sleep.

* * *

It was dark when he woke. Dean felt disoriented when he opened his eyes, and it took him a minute to figure out why. It hadn't been one of his nightmares that had woken him, for once.

What was it?

He slid a hand under his pillow, pleased to discover Sam had put his usual knife there, despite him having been unconscious at the time. He closed his hand around the hilt, listening intently. Sam's breathing was deep and steady next to him. _Not that_. The clock on the wall was ticking, too quiet to be noticed normally but unnaturally loud in the darkness. That wouldn't have woken him either.

_Dean._

...Yeah, that would be it.

Dean sat up fast, the knife solid in his hand, scanning the room for the intruder. The movement woke his brother: Sam jerked upright, looking around wildly for the threat.

Something wasn't right about the shadow next to the door.

Dean carefully pushed to his feet. "What are you?"

There was no answer, not that he'd really expected one. But the shadow grew and twisted and began to take on shape, and Dean could only stare.

She looked different than she had just a few days ago - less substantial, less solid - but it was still unmistakeably Bela.

"_Bela_?" Sam said incredulously. His voice suddenly sharpened with alarm. "What are you doing here?"

Bela's mouth moved, but no sound came out. Dean could see the fugly wallpaper through her neck. She'd definitely... faded since her encounter with him. He wondered if what Sam had done had caused that. At the time he'd been so fixated on making sure she wasn't exorcised back to Hell that it hadn't occurred to him that Sam's abilities might have caused some other kind of damage.

Bela's mouth was still working, but then she seemed to give up and just stared at him in silence. Her eyes were dark, but not black, not demonic.

_Dean_, he heard again, no more than a sigh in his mind.

"Bela," he said. "What is it?"

There was a pause, then Bela slowly raised her hands, extending them towards him. Dean heard Sam curse at the movement and scramble out of bed, but Dean's own attention was fixed on what Bela was holding.

It was hard to see, and not just because of the darkness in the room. It was more shadow than anything else, no solidity to it, but Dean recognized the shape. It was a feather. The shadow of a feather.

He reached out and took it from her hands, staring at it, only to wince when it suddenly flared into light, filling the whole room, bright and penetrating everything it reached.

Just as suddenly it was gone, leaving Dean blinking and trying to get rid of the afterimages imprinted on the back of his eyelids. "Fuck me," he muttered.

"Jesus, Dean, are you okay?" Sam demanded, hastily crossing the room to stand in front of him, touching his arm.

"I'm fine," Dean told him. "Bela, where did -" But the question died on his tongue: Bela was gone. Which made him wonder whether her faded condition hadn't had more to do with the feather than with something Sam had done to her.

"What _is_ that?" Sam asked, drawing his attention back to the feather.

Dean swallowed hard, because he _knew_ the answer, even though he didn't know exactly what it meant. "It's a feather. One of Castiel's feathers."


	4. Chapter 4

Sam stared at what was undeniably a feather, albeit one apparently made of shadows, then raised his head to stare at his brother.

Dean was still pale and dark-eyed from what Uriel had done to him earlier that day; he couldn't have gotten more than a couple of hours sleep. But his eyes were clear as he examined the feather, and Sam didn't doubt that he was in control of himself.

"How can you tell?" Sam asked cautiously.

Dean shrugged without looking up. "He showed me his wings once. Or... the shadow of his wings, I guess. I don't really get how it all works. But... they were like this - real and not real."

Sam nodded slowly. "And you're sure it's Castiel's? I mean, I guess other angels probably have wings like that too, right?"

Dean shook his head. "It's Castiel's."

Sam frowned. He didn't want to press the point too hard, but on the other hand, Uriel had tried to kill Dean, and Sam didn't put it past him to try some other, less direct way next. "Are you definitely sure? After what Uriel did today... I don't know, but I guess I wouldn't be taking anything at face value."

"I'm telling you, Sam," Dean said, a note of frustration finally creeping into his voice. "It's Castiel's. I can tell, okay? I don't know how I know for sure, but I do."

"Okay," Sam said, accepting that. "In that case, how did Bela get hold of it?"

"That's what I want to know," Dean muttered. He ran one finger absently along the feather, and there was another flash of light. For an instant, the light was all there was, filling the entire room, blindingly bright; then it subsided and the feather was made of shadows again.

Sam took a deep breath, and another. The light had been... terrifying. Overwhelming. But at the same time... it hadn't felt _wrong_. It really was an angel feather.

He wanted to reach out and touch the feather himself - _an angel feather, god_ \- but he didn't quite dare, not after the way it had flashed. It was one thing for Dean to touch it - he and Castiel had had some kind of connection (Castiel had pulled Dean out of Hell, had touched his _soul_, and Sam couldn't help but feel jealous of that). Sam wasn't sure he was entitled.

Dean didn't seem to pick up on Sam's mixed emotions, probably because he was still staring at the feather as if he expected it to reveal all its secrets to him if he just watched it closely enough.

"How would Bela have gotten hold of one of his feathers?" Sam asked finally. "Especially now that -" He stopped before he could put it into words. _Especially now that he's dead._ "She didn't have it with her the other day, did she?"

"No," Dean said with certainty and a slight degree of scorn. "I think I'd have noticed her carrying around a freaking _angel feather_, Sam."

Sam raised his hands in acceptance. "Okay. Then she must have found it somewhere."

The feather was dark in Dean's hands as he turned it over, examining it again as if he might have overlooked something the first time. Sam couldn't look away.

"Maybe Bela will be able to tell us," Dean said finally.

Sam looked around, but there was still no sign of her. "I think the light did something to her."

Dean nodded. "Yeah. But I think she'll be back. She brought the feather here for a reason."

"You said she was halfway between a vengeful spirit and a demon," Sam reminded him. "You don't think it might have... I don't know. Damaged her?"

Dean looked up and met his eyes. "Yeah. Yeah, I think the feather did _something_ to her. She was trying to say something, did you see? But she couldn't."

"So why would she have kept it, if it was hurting her?" Sam wondered aloud. It didn't make sense. Bela had always seemed to him to put her own interests ahead of anyone else's, and somehow he doubted death and Hell would have changed her _that_ much.

"She must have had a damn good reason," Dean said, echoing his thoughts. "That's why I think she'll be back once she's got herself together again."

Sam watched his brother stare at the feather some more. Dean looked... weirdly intense, and like he was deep in thought. At any other time, Sam would have been teasing him about it, but his brother looked so uncharacteristically serious that it felt wrong.

"I don't get it," Dean muttered finally. Sam was about to ask him what he was talking about, but his brother went on before he could open his mouth. "I mean... I get that the poor dumbass he was in, his _vessel_ or whatever - I get that his body would be - left. But not... not _him_. Not his_ wings_ and shit. It's not like he had a body of his own or whatever."

Sam thought about it, even though it made him feel a bit sick. He wasn't sure how he felt about angels these days - except Uriel: he was now very, very clear on how much he hated him - but still, Castiel had been an angel, and he'd brought Dean back from Hell, and imagining him dead and wondering about the mechanics of it... God.

"And if there _was_," Dean went on distractedly, still staring at the feather, "wouldn't they have... buried him, or something? The angels wouldn't have just left him lying there, would they? I mean, okay, they can be dicks, but he was their brother. He can't just be..."

Sam winced. "I don't..." Thing was, he wasn't sure. It wasn't so much that he thought Uriel was enough of a bastard to do something like that, it was just that angels weren't human, and he was becoming more and more aware of that. They weren't human, and they didn't think the way humans thought, or care about the things humans did. He didn't know whether they would bury one of their own. And though he didn't really know what happened to angels when they died, he had a feeling they probably just... stopped being. He couldn't imagine an angel becoming a restless spirit because they hadn't been buried.

More to the point, he couldn't imagine Bela bringing them the feather just so they could bury Castiel. Something else was going on.

"I wish she'd hurry the fuck up," Dean said finally. "How long do you think it should take her to... re-form or whatever?"

"How am I supposed to know, man?" Sam demanded. Then a thought struck him. "There is one thing we could try in the meantime, though."

* * *

"I can't believe I let you talk me into this," Dean hissed.

"I didn't hear you coming up with any better ideas," Sam said.

Dean stared down at the Ouija board. He'd had no idea Sam had even _kept _the thing.

"You're the one who didn't want to just sit around and wait until Bela recovers and comes back," Sam pointed out. "Anyway, she used a Ouija board to communicate with spirits when she was alive. It'll be familiar to her. And it's got to take less energy for her than trying to hold a visible form and speak."

Dean looked at the board glumly. Damn Sam for managing to make a Ouija board sound like a logical plan. It just had such a teenage-sleepover vibe.

"Fine," he said after a moment, and settled down on the other side of the board, facing his brother. "Maybe after this we can braid your stupid hair and have a pillow fight."

Sam grinned at him, slow and heated. "You love my hair."

Dean fought down the flush that warmed through him and didn't let himself look away. Because yeah, okay, he kind of did. That didn't make it any less stupid.

"Okay, fine, let's do this," he said, looking down at Castiel's feather to take his mind off the urge to lean over and kiss Sam. He knew damn well things would spiral out of control if he did, and right now he needed to find out what the fuck was going on. They couldn't afford to get sidetracked.

Sam put his fingers on the pointer, businesslike again, and Dean followed suit, swallowing down the desire to make another smartass comment.

"Bela?" Sam said. "Bela, are you here?"

Silence. The pointer didn't move.

Sam looked across at Dean. "Maybe you should try. She, uh, might not like me too much right now, after... you know."

Dean noted the way his brother glanced away at that last part, and reminded himself to raise the issue at some point. He'd wanted to talk to Sam again about using his powers, after his brother had used them on _him_, but with everything else that had happened, he'd never got round to it. Or maybe he'd been putting that talk off, if he was honest. Judging by the tone of Sam's voice, though, he couldn't afford to do that for too much longer.

"Dean?" Sam said hesitantly.

"Yeah," Dean said. "Bela? You around?"

They waited, but there was still nothing.

"Look," Dean tried again. "I know you had something to tell us. And I know you're not going to let something like a freaking feather take you out for long."

He and Sam looked at each other and waited.

"This is a stupid idea," Dean muttered. "Bela, I don't know what the fuck you saw in these things. I mean, seriously, Ouija boards? There's got to be less embarrassing ways of communicating with spirits than that. How did you not cringe every time?"

He was mostly just ranting, and was caught off-guard when the pointer slowly shuddered into motion. STUPID, it spelled out.

Sam grinned. "Ouija boards? Or him?"

The pointer moved to the letter D and hovered there, and Dean scowled as his brother laughed.

"Bela, what the fuck is going on?" he demanded. "Where did you get the feather?"

CASTIEL, the pointer spelled out.

"I know it's his," Dean said sharply. "Where did you find it?"

The pointer shuddered for a moment, then started spelling out letters again. TRAPPED.

"You're trapped?" Sam asked, frowning. "Trapped here? But..."

The pointer shot across to the letter C.

Dean stared at the board without seeing it. What...?

"What do you mean, he's trapped?" he demanded. "He's an angel, it's not like he can wind up as a ghost or whatever."

The pointer moved across to 'NO', then began shooting between letters again, almost too fast for Dean to track.

NOT DEAD, it spelled out.

Dean stared at it. He could hear his heart speeding up, a faint roaring in his ears. Because he knew what she meant, and that wasn't possible. It wasn't.

"Bela," Sam said into the silence, his voice awkward. "Are you saying - are you really saying Castiel's still alive?"

YES, the pointer said.

Dean felt Sam's eyes shoot up to fasten on his face, but he couldn't look up or say anything or even think quite yet.

"Why should we believe you?" Sam asked finally. "Uriel said he was dead -"

"Lost," Dean said quietly, not realizing he was going to speak until he heard the words coming out of his mouth. "Uriel said they'd _lost _him."

Sam stared at him. "You think..."

Dean shrugged with a carelessness he was far from feeling. "Would you put it past him?"

Sam's mouth snapped shut and he nodded in unhappy agreement.

"Say I believe you," Dean said finally. He was still a long way from believing it, but he wasn't ruling it out entirely, either. "Did he give you the feather?"

NO, the pointer said. Then, more slowly, LOST IT. FIGHT.

Dean narrowed his eyes. "And you just... what? Decided to bring it to us out of the goodness of your heart? Somehow I'm not buying it."

The pointer shuddered for a moment, before finally spelling out, PAY MY DEBTS.

Sam was frowning. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"I don't know," Dean said. Except he was remembering the flashes of memory he'd seen when Bela was possessing him, when she'd clung to his essence to try to stop Sam from exorcising her back to Hell. Remembering her memory of unbearably white light, and the way the dark chains had vanished as the light passed over her. Maybe he did know, after all.

"Where?" he asked finally. "You said he was trapped. Where?"

The pointer spelled out CHICAGO and fell still.

"Fine," Dean said, and took his fingers off the pointer. He picked up the feather again, ignoring the thrum of energy he could feel coursing through it. "Fine. Chicago. Why the fuck not."

Sam was watching him. "You believe her?"

Dean shook his head, not really in negation. "I don't know. But I figure it's not exactly like we've got anywhere else we need to be right now. I don't think Uriel's about to come knocking for our help any time soon. And we haven't been to Chicago in a while."

Since their encounter with Meg - or, no, the demon that had been possessing Meg, Dean corrected himself, a distinction he'd been forcing himself to make since the raising of the Witnesses. They hadn't exactly been eager to hurry back there after that one.

He wasn't sure he believed Bela, but Castiel had pulled him out of Hell. If there was a chance he could be trapped now, Dean couldn't help but feel he owed it to the angel to check it out.

* * *

Sam leaned his head against the window of the Impala and tried to go back to sleep. He wasn't surprised that Dean had wanted to set off immediately, but he still wasn't sure it had been such a good idea. He was tired and hadn't had nearly enough sleep, and Dean was still pale from what Uriel had tried earlier. Sam hadn't wanted his brother to drive, but Dean had glared at him so balefully when he'd tried to argue the point that he'd conceded defeat.

"We'll stop in a few hours, okay?" Dean said. "I just didn't really want to hang around back there any longer than necessary."

His brother had a point, Sam admitted silently. Getting further away from the last place they'd seen Uriel was probably a smart move. Not that he thought it would make any real difference in the end: if Uriel wanted to find them, he would. But he was pretty sure that hadn't been Dean's only motivation. That was okay, though. Sam could understand it.

"It's fine," he said, hauling himself upright. He guessed it was better to stay awake until they stopped, if Dean wasn't planning to drive right through to morning. With his brother still looking that exhausted, it was probably safer to talk and keep each other awake.

Dean shot a look across at him, but seemed to accept it. "You think Bela's following us?"

Sam shrugged. "She knows where we're going. And she managed to track us to Marietta. I'm guessing she'll find us in Chicago. Maybe she'll have her strength back by then."

Dean nodded. "I guess you're right. If she's telling the truth, we'll need her to show us where he is."

Sam sighed. "And if she's lying?"

Dean's hands tightened around the steering wheel, but he didn't look away from the road. "Then we'll deal with it. And I guess we'll get another shot at Lilith."

Sam winced.

"I don't think she'd pull something like this for Lilith, though," Dean added after a moment. "Bela hates the bitch. And okay, she's not exactly the trustworthy kind, but I don't think she'd do something like that. It's not like Lilith's got the same hold over her that she used to."

Sam nodded. "I hope you're right." More quietly, he added, "Not that I don't want Lilith dead, but I don't think we're ready yet to take her on again."

Dean looked across at him before turning back to the road. "Yeah. Yeah, I'd kinda like to put off that reunion for a while myself."

Sam turned to look at him this time. There was something in his brother's voice, and Sam wanted to ask if Dean had seen Lilith in Hell, what she'd done to him, but Dean's face was closed off, and Sam knew pushing his brother when he was wearing that expression only ever made things worse. He stayed quiet instead.

"So," Dean said finally. His voice was almost light-hearted, but of the forced kind that made Sam instinctively wince, even before he knew what was coming next. "You pulled the 'look ma, no hands' kind of exorcism on me back there."

Sam took a deep breath and held it. He didn't know why he'd been bothering to hope that Dean wouldn't raise that subject. "Don't hold your breath for an apology. She was going to cut off your fingers, Dean, she was going to _kill _you -"

"She'd changed her mind on that score by the time you got there," Dean said lightly. "But even if she hadn't -"

"Look, there wasn't another option," Sam said. He could hear the angry tone creeping into his voice, but - god. He hated remembering that moment, hated this entire conversation. "She already had the knife against your hand. There wasn't time to try to disarm you and tie you up for a proper exorcism. And if I'd used the knife, you'd have - what the fuck is it you think I should have done instead, Dean?"

Dean groaned and wrenched the car over to the side of the road, pulling off and turning to look at Sam seriously. Sam fought the urge to climb out and just get as far away as he could.

"Sam," Dean said. "I don't know what's up with your freaky mojo, but - look, you know what the angels said -"

"Oh, I know what the angels said," Sam said bitterly. "Like the angel that tried to kill you this afternoon? Yeah, I'm really sold on their opinion of right and wrong."

Dean shook his head. "Yeah, okay. So Uriel's an ass, not exactly a newsflash. But - Sam, a demon gave you those... powers. And that scares the fuck out of me."

Sam gazed out of the window and tried not to let it hurt. "I know."

"But you keep on using them," Dean said.

Sam turned his head. "I just told you, there was no -"

"No other option, yeah, I know," Dean cut him off. He was smiling, but it looked painful. "And Samhain - you had no other option there, either, huh?"

"You were there," Sam said. "You saw how -"

Dean shook his head. "You remember when Dad died?"

The sudden shift caught Sam off-balance. "What?"

"I kind of lost it," Dean admitted. Though a little rough, his tone was far more even than Sam had ever heard him use when talking about their dad's death. It wasn't a subject Dean ever raised voluntarily. Sam wasn't sure how he was meant to react.

"Everything was... fucked up," Dean said. He was staring out the front windshield, not looking at Sam. "I wanted to just kill everything. You remember the vampires we hunted."

Sam wasn't likely to forget any time soon. He'd been terrified back then, aware his brother was slipping and not knowing how to bring him back. He'd been so scared for Dean, and even the memory made him want to reach out, press a hand to the back of Dean's neck.

"I was just killing," Dean said again. "It seemed simple enough. If something was supernatural, then I killed it, and I didn't think too much about it."

"You didn't kill Lenore," Sam said, because he had to say something.

Dean glanced across at him for a second before looking away. "Yeah, well. You got through to me eventually. I was just a bit slow on the uptake."

Sam sighed. "So what you're saying is I'm being slow on the uptake now?"

"No," Dean said, with a vehemence that surprised him. "I'm saying I wasn't _thinking_, Sam. Something was supernatural, so it was my enemy, so I killed it. Other options didn't even occur to me - like, hey, maybe these vampires don't actually kill people, or hey, maybe just threatening these bastards would be enough, I might not need to kill them. Killing was what I did. It was the first thing I thought of."

Sam watched his brother and waited, trying not to anticipate what Dean might say next. He wasn't sure he wanted to know.

"I don't want you to go that way," Dean said finally, and turned to look at him, his eyes hard. "Sometimes we need to do things that are fucked up. But sometimes we don't. And you say _I didn't have any option_, Sam, but how hard did you really look for one? Or did you just go for the one that seemed easiest?"

Sam looked away, unable to hold his brother's gaze. He knew what Dean was trying to say.

"That freaky mind-mojo of yours scares the shit out of me," Dean said again. "Because a demon gave it to you, and like fuck was he trying to help out. Because an angel threatened to goddamn _kill _you if you kept using it. But yeah, if it's the only way for you to survive - fuck it. That's what matters, right? Believe me, I'm down with that." His gaze became even more intent, but Sam still couldn't look at him. "But don't make the same mistake I did, Sammy. Don't let it become your first instinct, the easiest option. It's not an easy option. And it's too dangerous for you to go around doing that kind of thing like it's nothing."

Sam nodded jerkily and took a careful breath. "I'm still not sorry." He wasn't, not for this one. He still didn't think there would have been time to disarm Dean before Bela had hurt him. Maybe she hadn't been planning to at that point, but Sam hadn't known that. He hadn't been about to risk it.

That didn't mean he didn't hear what his brother was saying. And he got it, he really did. It was...

"I'll try," he added, and forced himself to meet Dean's gaze at last.

Dean studied him for a moment, then nodded as if satisfied and started the car again, pulling back onto the road.

Sam waited five miles before he finally asked, "What was it like?"

Dean didn't look at him. "What was what like?"

"When I was trying to exorcise you," Sam said. He was weirdly nervous, bracing himself for Dean's answer. "What did it feel like?"

Dean was watching the road really intently now, and his knuckles were white around the wheel again. "What do you think?"

Sam imagined darkness, a tightening vise of pressure, the sick stain of something demonic. He wished he hadn't asked.

"Light," Dean said abruptly, his grip on the wheel suddenly relaxing. "It was like light. Passing through me."

Sam stared at him, long enough to convince himself Dean was telling the truth, and then looked away.

_Light_, he thought. _Huh_.

* * *

Being in Chicago wasn't the most comfortable feeling. It was made worse by the fact that they didn't have the first clue what they were looking for. Eventually they just checked into a motel - _not_ the one where they'd stayed the last time they'd been in Chicago, or anywhere near it - and tried to figure out what to do next.

"Maybe we should try summoning Bela," Sam suggested finally. "Or see if she'll respond to the Ouija board again."

Dean shot him an 'are you for real?' look. Sam ignored it as best he could, because it had _worked_, damnit, no matter what Dean thought of it.

"It's either that or start researching," Sam said. "If Castiel told you he was going to protect a Seal, then there must be one around here. Maybe we could go to the library, try to track it down..."

Dean groaned and flopped down on the nearest bed, staring up at the ceiling with an expression of tragic despair. "Fine, fine, we'll do the goddamn Ouija board again if it means that much to you."

Sam rolled his eyes, then walked over and kissed Dean into a more cooperative mood.

It didn't take him long to set up the Ouija board. He considered the table for a moment, but decided that messing with Dean by putting it on the floor outweighed his own comfort. There was something about the sight of Dean sitting cross-legged on the floor, martyred expression on his face, that cracked him up every time.

"You really think she might be here already?" Dean asked, settling down on the floor opposite him. "It's a long way from Marietta, and it's not like she could drive." He paused. "At least, I don't think so."

Sam wondered for a moment whether Bela would possess some random person just to drive to Chicago, then sighed. There was no way to know, and no way to stop it now. "I don't know," he said. "If she's part-demon, she might be able to just jump here. I guess we'll see." He placed his fingers on the planchette, and narrowed his eyes at his brother until Dean did the same thing.

Dean sighed, but spoke up without Sam having to prompt him this time. "Bela? You there?"

"Well well well," Bela said, walking through the wall. "Isn't this _cute_."

Dean drew his fingers back from the planchette as if they'd been burned, and shot a glare in Sam's direction. Sam ignored him, focusing on Bela instead.

He hadn't caught more than a glimpse of her when she'd stopped possessing Dean's body, back in Pontiac - he'd been too caught up in using his powers, and her form had collapsed into smoke too quickly for him to recognize her. She looked a lot like the Bela he remembered, her hair falling down past her shoulders, her eyes sharp and mocking, her mouth twisted into a smirk. But something in the way she held herself, the way she moved, betrayed all too clearly that she was no longer alive. No longer human.

"Did you want to have a tea party?" she asked, mocking. "I could have brought cake if I'd known."

"You're the one who used to 'consult the spirits' all the time," Dean said.

"I at least knew how to use the board as a tool," Bela said sharply. "Rather than just messing around like a couple of schoolkids."

Dean shot a glance at Sam, half 'what a bitch', half 'told you so'. Sam shook his head and got up, sitting down at the table instead. Dean joined him.

"It's nice to see you again, Sam Winchester," Bela said, eyes intent on him. "Dean and I got the chance to... catch up the other day, but I didn't really get to stick around and find out more about what you've been up to. I've heard a _lot_, though."

Sam knew better than to let her needle him. Funny how Bela still hadn't changed in a lot of ways. "Tell us about the feather, Bela."

Bela raised an eyebrow. "Straight down to business? That could hurt a girl's feelings, Sam." She smiled. "But I've never been just any girl. Fine. I already told you most of it."

"It's Castiel's," Dean said. "Where did you get it?"

"I told you already," Bela said. "He's not dead, Dean."

Sam didn't trust Bela; never had when she was alive, and didn't now, either, when she'd possessed his brother and tried to kill him just a day or two earlier. He wasn't that stupid. But something about the way she said it rang true, and Sam began to think she might not be lying.

He saw a shift in the way Dean was holding himself, too subtle for anyone else to pick up on, and knew that his brother thought so too.

"You said he's trapped," Dean said. "Where? How?"

"Not too far from here," Bela said. "As for how... Lilith got the better of him, I'm afraid."

Sam felt his heart-rate pick up at the sound of the name. "Lilith's here?"

Bela looked at him, then shook her head. "Sorry, Sam. Believe me, I want her just as much as you do. But she left town after she trapped the angel. I haven't had a chance to pick up her trail again."

"Yeah, what's up with that?" Dean asked. He was leaning back in his seat, eyeing Bela intently but with no real hostility. "I thought killing her was all you gave a damn about now. What are you doing chasing around the country bringing us angel feathers?"

"I told you, I pay my debts," Bela said. She smiled at him, sharp-edged. "The one time in my life it seemed I was getting something for nothing, it turned out I'd booked myself a one-way ticket downstairs. I've made a point of making sure I don't wind up in that kind of situation again."

"What debt?" Sam asked. Because okay, he could understand that motivation, but still...

"To Dean, for helping me when you tried to exorcise me, for one thing," Bela said. "I thought he might want to know his angel wasn't dead."

Sam glanced across at his brother, but Bela wasn't done. "And to the angel. I don't suppose he meant to, but - the light..."

Sam frowned, but Dean seemed to be following. "His light broke your chains. He set you free."

"Yes," Bela said. She was looking at Dean, her gaze very intent. "It's partly because of him that I'm here, that I escaped from Below. And whether he meant to do it or not, that's a debt I need to repay."

It was hard to hear them talking about Hell so... not casually, never that, but with such understated familiarity, the way neither of them had to describe anything, the way they talked about chains as if that was nothing. It freaked Sam out a bit, but he kept quiet and watched them both.

"Okay," Dean said finally. "Say I'm buying all this. He seriously gave you his feather and told you to come let us know he was trapped? Because..."

"Oh, no," Bela told them. She laughed. "God, no. I don't think he'd have wanted me to do that at all. I didn't exactly ask his permission."

Sam stared at her. "You _stole _one of his feathers?" Was that even possible? Okay, Sam had only met the angel once, and maybe not under the best of circumstances, but he couldn't imagine _any _angel just standing there and letting someone pluck one of their feathers. Just... no.

Bela rolled her eyes, the movement a little jerky, like it took thought to move her form that way now. "I've no real desire to be tossed back Below, Sam, whatever you might think." She looked from him to Dean. "He was hurt in the fight, lost a few feathers. I grabbed one from the floor."

"Hurt?" Dean demanded. "How bad?"

"How am I supposed to know?" Bela said, sounding suddenly bored. "He's an angel. I grabbed a feather, brought it to you, told you he's still alive and trapped - as far as I'm concerned, I've paid my debt in full."

She turned as if she was planning to walk out through the same wall she entered by.

"Wait," Sam said firmly. "You're not done yet. Where is he? Where did Lilith trap him?"

Bela paused and turned back. "I'll tell you. If you give me something I want in return."

"Oh, so much for repaying your debt," Dean muttered sarcastically.

"I told you, I've already repaid it," Bela said. "If you want me to actually take you right there, that's dangerous, and there's a price."

"What price?" Sam asked. He felt oddly more inclined to believe her when she was making demands; that was the Bela he was familiar with. If she was going to demand something in exchange, that meant she might actually have something to offer them.

Bela focused on him. "You almost sent me back to Hell the other day. I want you to promise that you won't. Not now, not ever."

Sam took a deep breath. "What?"

"You heard me," Bela said, her expression very serious. "I don't want to go back down there. I _can't_ go back there. I want you to promise you won't suddenly decide it's where I belong."

Sam saw Dean straighten out of the corner of his eye, and it was that more than anything else that made him say, "Okay. On one condition. If you... go darker, become a demon, start hurting people - that's it. I'll do what I need to. Because then it _will _be where you belong. If you stay like this... we won't have a problem."

Bela kept her eyes fixed on his face, then slowly nodded. "Good enough."

"Awesome, everyone's happy, now tell us where the angel is," Dean said.

The corner of Bela's mouth quirked up. "I think it would work much better to show you."

And before Sam had figured out what that smile meant, she had stepped forward and into Dean.

* * *

_Is this seriously necessary?_ Dean grumbled in his head. _Because I've got to tell you, I don't think this was the best way to convince Sam he shouldn't be exorcising you any time soon._

Bela laughed at him, flexing his hands around the steering wheel, and he could feel her enjoyment of even that much physical sensation.

_Necessary? No_, she said. _Fun? Definitely_.

"Dean?" Sam said, his voice tense.

"It's fine, Sammy," Dean reassured him again, for the tenth time in the ten minutes since Bela had wandered back into his body. She wasn't controlling him or anything this time, not really; mostly she just seemed to be along for the ride. Dean had always known he was irresistible.

"I don't like this," Sam said.

"It's okay," Dean said again. "At least this way we don't have to worry about finding the place. And it's probably the easiest way for her to come along."

He wasn't entirely sure that last part was true, though he hoped it would help Sam deal with it. He suspected that Bela's twisted idea of _fun _really was the main reason she'd decided to do things this way. He remembered all the wigs and disguises she'd used back when she was alive, transforming herself from one person into another, over and over. She probably loved being able to actually possess different people and slip inside them. Like a whole-body disguise or something.

_Like you're any different, with your fake IDs and pseudonyms?_ Bela needled him.

Dean didn't really have a comeback for that one, because he'd always thought the fake IDs were pretty damn cool, even if Sam had never truly appreciated them the same way.

_So you're just flitting from one person to the next now?_ Dean asked. _Like changing your clothes, or your wig?_

Bela was silent for a moment. _No._

The pause drew out long enough for him to realize something was wrong, even though her presence inside him wasn't strong enough for him to catch more than a faint echo of her emotions.

_Possessing people_... Bela said finally. _I thought at first it would be like that, but they always feel - violated. And I can't put them through that. I can't._

Dean didn't really know what to say to that.

_So I've been sticking to bastards who deserve it_, Bela added, her voice forcibly brightening.

_And me_, Dean reminded her.

Bela laughed at him, and the pain of her silence shattered completely. _Yes, well. You know what's going on, and who I am._

Dean sighed at her. _Just so long as this doesn't become a habit.  
_  
"Dean?" Sam said again.

"Sorry," Dean said, looking across at his brother. "It's kind of distracting. But I'm okay, really."

Sam didn't look happy. "Maybe we should make her get out of you, man. Seriously."

"It can't be that much further," Dean said reassuringly. _Is it?_

_Another five minutes_, Bela told him. _We need to take a left up here - can I?_

_Knock yourself out_, Dean said. _Though not literally, at least not while you're inside me, because you'd probably take me with you._

"She says we're almost there, just another few minutes," he said aloud to Sam, trying not to be weirded out as his hands moved without his input, signaling and then turning the steering wheel.

_Having fun?_ he asked.

_It's nice to feel again_, Bela sent back, giving him back control over his arms. _You can probably remember what that's like_. _Plus, watching Sam trying not to be jealous is hilarious_.

Yeah, that was the Bela Dean knew, all right, messing with other people's heads just for the fun of it.

She didn't bother telling him where to stop the car, just took over his body again to guide the Impala into an empty parking lot and shut down the engine.

"I'm not coming inside," she said, commandeering his voice to speak to Sam too. "It's the abandoned warehouse on the left. Second floor. There are protections, so be careful. I know it goes against the grain for you two, but try not to rush into anything without knowing exactly what you're doing, just this once?"

_Why aren't you coming in?_ Dean demanded to know.

_Because I'm not an idiot_, she said bluntly. _Our deal was that I'd show you where to go, nothing more. Lilith's been here, angels have been here... if you think I'm stupid enough to risk getting caught in the middle, then you don't know me very well._

_You don't change, Bela_, Dean said.

_Oh, I do_, Bela replied, a dark undercurrent in her voice before it lightened again. _But not that much_.

"Good luck, boys," she said, commandeering Dean's voice again, and then she slipped out of him, vanishing in a cloud of smoke before either of them could ask anything else.

Sam leaned over at once, gripping Dean's shoulder, his other hand pressed against Dean's face. "You okay?"

"Fine," Dean told him, but held still and let Sam look his fill until he was satisfied. "So she wanted to drive my car. Can't blame her for that."

Sam rolled his eyes and released him. "Did she tell you anything else about what to expect in there?"

"Not really," Dean said, but filled his brother in on her last few comments.

"I'm surprised she didn't want to hang around and enjoy the fun," Sam said with a trace of bitterness.

"You know Bela," Dean said with a shrug. "C'mon, let's do this."

* * *

The abandoned warehouse only reminded Dean a little bit of the one where they'd run up against the demon possessing Meg. This one was dark and quiet too, but the atmosphere was different. The other warehouse had had an air of tension, like something had been about to happen at any moment. This warehouse just felt... still. Like everything was all over.

Dean didn't like it much better.

The EMF meter went crazy the second they got inside, no matter which direction they turned, and Dean gave up and switched it off, because it was more distraction than help.

Despite what Bela had said, they checked out the ground floor first, just to be on the safe side. There was nothing alive there, nothing lying in wait, but Dean could tell at once that something had gone down there. They'd found sulfur and drops of blood, and strange scorch marks on the floor. He wasn't sure he wanted to know what the second floor would look like.

It was just as bad as he'd expected. There weren't so much drops of blood as pools of it, soaked into the floorboards, staining the dusty wood. The place seemed darker, despite the light filtering through the cracked and dirty windows. It was the shadows that were the creepiest, though: shadows where there shouldn't have been any, unnatural and unmoving.

He and Sam looked at each other, and began to work their way methodically through the small offices off the stairwell, all of them abandoned and empty. Dean had a feeling that whatever they were looking for would be in the large main area which, if the second floor was laid out like the one below, would be behind the last door.

He and Sam took up positions on either side of the door, holding each other's gaze instead of counting out loud. Then Sam carefully opened the door and they burst in together.

It was a wide-open space, stretching out the remaining length of the building, the high ceiling adding to the feeling of space. The floor was blackened, seemingly scorched, right from the door they'd just come through to the far side of the room, except for a wide circle in the center, where the floor was suddenly unmarked.

Castiel was standing in the middle of the circle, looking down at the ground.

_He's alive_, Dean thought numbly. Even after what Bela had said, he hadn't truly believed it. But Castiel was alive.

He slowly lowered his gun and walked forward, treading cautiously on the scorched floorboards, but they held his weight. Sam moved with him, looking around for anything unexpected.

Castiel looked up as they approached, meeting Dean's eyes with the same intent gaze that had become so familiar. Dean opened his mouth, but the angel spoke before he could say anything.

"You cannot come any closer."

Dean eyed him sharply, drawing up short, then looked down at the floor. He and Sam were only a few feet away from where the scorched ground gave way to the circle of unmarked floorboards.

Dean looked back up at Castiel, who was still studying him expressionlessly. "I think this is the part where you're supposed to make a joke about how rumors of your demise were greatly exaggerated," he said. Dean could hear the edge in his own voice, but damnit, he'd thought the angel was _dead_.

Castiel looked away, the movement deliberate. "On the contrary. They were not exaggerated by much. You should not have come here."

"What do you mean?" Sam asked before Dean could reply. Dean could tell just from his brother's tone that he was frowning. "Are you injured?"

"No," the angel said, turning his gaze on Sam. "Not significantly."

"Okay, what the fuck's going on?" Dean demanded, losing patience. "Why did Uriel tell us you were dead? What are you doing here?"

He took a step forward, but Castiel's gaze made him look down at the floor and stop again.

"You cannot come any closer," Castiel repeated, his voice quiet but very firm.

"Why?" Dean demanded.

"Because if you do," Castiel said, "the Seal will be broken."

* * *

Sam stared at the angel, then took a step forward to touch Dean's arm carefully and draw him back. Dean obeyed without looking away from Castiel.

"She was telling the truth: you're trapped," Sam said aloud, trying to put the pieces together.

"Yes," the angel said.

Dean was shaking his head slowly. "What _happened_?"

Castiel looked away. "There was a battle here. We sought to protect the Seal from Lilith. We held her off, but she is very powerful. She did not manage to break the Seal, but she did succeed in trapping me inside its protections."

"You want to spell that out for me in plain English?" Dean said roughly, and Sam could read the fear behind his brother's harsh tone, fear that he understood what Castiel was saying all too well.

"It means that if I leave this place, the Seal will break," Castiel said quietly.

Sam swallowed hard. "There's got to be a way. I mean - to free you. Without breaking the Seal."

"No," Castiel said, with quiet certainty.

"Hey, screw that," Dean said abruptly. "You're always telling me you're not omniscient. So don't try to tell me now that you know for sure there's no way to do it."

Castiel's lips twitched into a near-smile as he met Dean's gaze. "Very well, then. To my knowledge, and that of my brothers, there is no way it can be done."

"Where's Lilith now?" Sam asked. It was only a few days since Uriel had told them about Castiel. If there was a chance Lilith was still nearby... Sam wanted her dead so badly he could taste it.

"She is gone," Castiel said, his eyes sharp enough that Sam was forced to look away.

Dean broke in before Sam could press the point. "Why didn't she break the Seal?"

"She may not have intended to trap me here," Castiel said. "It has the advantage that I'm now well-placed to defend the Seal. She significantly weakened the protections on it, but I can make it difficult for her to open the Seal entirely."

"But you can't leave," Dean pointed out.

"That is what Uriel meant when he told you I was lost," Castiel said. His voice was inhumanly calm. "I can no longer play a part elsewhere."

"He should have done something," Dean said. "There must have been something another angel could have done."

Castiel said, "All things happen for a reason, Dean."

"Bullshit," Dean said immediately. Sam winced. It was incomprehensible to him that Dean still refused so adamantly to believe in God, even after being raised from Hell by an angel. The way he insisted on arguing with and provoking angels at every turn scared the shit out of Sam.

"What happens now?" he intervened before Dean could say anything else.

"I remain here and protect the Seal to the best of my ability," Castiel said calmly. "If Lilith returns, I may be able to hold her off. You two will be needed elsewhere; Uriel will guide you now in my place."

Dean snorted at that. "Yeah, I doubt it. We're not his favorite people."

Castiel paused. "Uriel does not have favorites. He is not... close to humanity. But you are needed, and Uriel recognizes that."

"He tried to kill Dean yesterday," Sam said flatly.

Castiel looked at Dean. "He did not succeed." There was the faintest note of a question in there, Sam thought.

"No," Dean said. "Not for lack of trying, though. But whatever, if someone needs us, they can come and find us. Until then, we're going to work on getting you out of here."

Castiel frowned slightly. "I told you, it can't be done."

"No, you said you didn't know how it could be done," Dean corrected him. "There's got to be a way."

"Yeah, we'll find something," Sam agreed, with more confidence than he actually felt. But Castiel had given him back his brother, had raised Dean out of Hell, so trying to find a way to free the angel was the very least Sam owed.

"There you go," Dean said, as if that settled everything. "Anything we can bring you in the meantime? Food, blankets, latest issue of Busty Asian Beauties?"

Sam elbowed him sharply in the ribs.

"Thank you, no," Castiel replied seriously. "I do not require anything, and there is too great a risk that the Seal would be broken if you tried to pass anything through the protections."

"What can you tell us about the Seal?" Sam asked hastily, seizing the opportunity to steer the conversation away from the thought of bringing the angel porn. Jesus, Dean was shameless.

Castiel looked at him. "Nothing. It is not something with which you should concern yourselves. Do not try to interfere."

"We're not going to just leave you here and forget about you," Dean said, and Sam could hear the anger underlying his brother's voice.

"We are fighting a war," Castiel said. "Such things happen in war, and the others must continue."

"If someone dies, yeah," Dean said. "But you don't leave anyone behind. Or maybe that's a human thing."

"I'm not human," Castiel reminded him very seriously, almost as if Dean might have forgotten.

"No, but we are," Dean told him. "Let's go research, Sammy."


	5. Chapter 5

"I don't know where to even start, Dean," Sam said, frowning.

"Lilith managed to find a way to trap him in there, so there's gotta be a way to set him free again," Dean said firmly. "We just need to figure out how."

In truth, he was worried. Information about the Seals was scarce enough; information about a very specific Seal, when they knew nothing other than its location, was going to be that much harder to find.

"Do you think Bela knows anything?" Sam asked, beginning to pace back and forth across their motel room.

Dean considered. "Don't know. She knew he was trapped. If she was following Lilith, she might even have seen it happen. Could be worth a try."

Sam nodded thoughtfully. "Assuming she'll talk to us."

Dean snorted. "There'll be a price tag, that's for damn sure." He thought about it, and suggested reluctantly, "We could always try the damn Ouija board again. Or summon her somehow. Though I've got a feeling she won't be too cooperative if we try that."

Sam nodded. "How about you try the Ouija board, or a basic summoning, just in case she's nearby, and I'll call Bobby, see if he's got any advice."

"Nice try," Dean told him. "But the Ouija board's all yours, Samantha. I'm calling Bobby." He pulled out his cell and dialed before Sam could do more than bitchface at him.

Bobby made him explain the situation twice, just to be sure everything was clear, then began grilling him on every detail.

"No, I don't know what's so special about that warehouse," Dean said for the third time. "It's old, abandoned, but it's not like it's ancient or anything."

"Which means it's unlikely that the location itself is the Seal," Bobby pointed out. "I guess it could still be the land, even if the building ain't exactly ancient, but then I'm guessing your angel wouldn't be trapped on the second floor, of all places, it would be the ground floor or a basement."

"Yeah, okay, I'll buy that," Dean said. "What else could it be, then? I mean, Samhain was the raising of a demon, but that doesn't seem like something Castiel could get trapped inside."

"Trapped in the protections," Bobby reminded him. "That's definitely what he said?"

Dean thought back. "Yeah. So you think that's different to the Seal itself?"

"Could be," Bobby said. "Could be they're something the angels threw up when Lilith attacked the Seal. Or it could be that the Seal has some kind of protective wards or the like which manifest wherever it is. Though if it's not locational... a shifting Seal, maybe."

Dean grimaced. "How do we get around these protections without breaking the Seal? I mean, it's got to be possible, right? If he's trapped in the protections and not the Seal itself?"

"Maybe," Bobby said. He didn't sound overly confident. "All depends on what these protections are like. If they're hooked too deeply into the Seal..."

"Awesome," Dean muttered under his breath. "How are we meant to figure that out?"

"Describe it all for me again," Bobby told him.

Dean obediently described the room for the second time, with Bobby interrupting him every couple of seconds to check a detail.

"The circle where the ground isn't scorched, that's got to be where it is," Dean said.

"Were there markings on the floor?" Bobby asked intently. "Some kind of script or runes, anything like that?"

Dean thought back, but he knew the answer. "No. Not that I could see."

Bobby grunted in acknowledgment. "I guess that would have been too easy."

"We're going to try to get hold of Bela, see if she saw what went down and knows anything that might be useful," Dean said.

"Worth a try," Bobby agreed. "See if you can't convince your angel to tell you about the protections. I'll do some research, turn up what I can, but without any hard info, it ain't going to be easy."

"He didn't want to talk about it," Dean said quietly. "I'll try to get it out of him, though."

"Call me if you find anything out," Bobby told him.

"Thanks, Bobby," Dean said, and hung up.

Sam looked up from the Ouija board, and despite the situation, Dean couldn't help grinning at the picture he made. "Having fun, Sammy? Want me to paint your toenails next?"

"Screw you," Sam said without rancor. "What did Bobby have to say?"

Dean filled him in. "We've got to find out about the protections," he concluded.

"Makes sense," Sam agreed. "Bela might know if the angels created them to defend the Seal or whether they're part of the Seal, I guess. Or do you think Castiel would tell you?"

Dean shook his head. "I don't know. Maybe."

"Okay," Sam said. "I think we've got most of the stuff we'll need for a basic summoning. How about you drop me off in town and I'll pick up the few herbs we don't have? You could go and try talking to Castiel again while I'm doing that, he's still the one who's most likely to know what's going on."

Dean considered the options. "Sounds like a plan. Let's go."

* * *

The store where Dean had dropped him off turned out to be more New Age-y than a proper witchcraft store, but Sam managed to find most of the herbs they needed. The proprietor had eyed him somewhat warily when he first went in, but warmed up when he smiled at her, and suggested possible substitutes for the two herbs she didn't stock. Sam took the opportunity to buy a few other essentials, too, then extracted himself politely from the situation before the owner could give him her phone number.

When he got back to the motel, he paused outside the door, frowning. He hadn't heard or seen anything out of place, but something felt slightly... off. Sam shot a cautious glance around him to make sure no one was looking, then took out his gun and kicked the door open in one swift move.

"Melodramatic much?" Ruby said drily from where she was leaning next to the bathroom door.

"Ruby?" Sam said in surprise. He put the gun away and hastily shut the door behind him. "Are you okay? What are you doing here? I thought you were going to stay low for a while after..."

"That was the plan," Ruby said. "And then I heard what you were up to."

Sam frowned. "What? What are you talking about?"

"You're trying to open a Seal," Ruby said, and he finally identified the emotion in her voice as fury.

"We're not," he said, studying her carefully. "We're trying to find a way to - " He paused, wondering how much she actually knew. "We want to find a way around the protections on the Seal, without opening it," he amended.

"It can't be done," Ruby told him. "If you try, you'll just break the Seal."

"Yeah, well," Sam said. "We're still looking for a way."

"Well, you need to stop," Ruby said angrily. "I won't let you do it, Sam."

Sam felt his eyes narrow. "You won't _let _me? What the hell's going on, Ruby? What are you even doing here?"

Ruby stalked towards him. Sam held his ground, refusing to be intimidated by how dark her eyes were.

"A little birdie told me what you and Dean are up to," Ruby said with a fake smile. "So I came to put a stop to it."

"A little..." Sam broke off, figuring out what the answer had to be. "Bela? _Bela _told you? Why? How does she even know you?"

"We've met," Ruby said. "She owed me a favor, and telling me was how she repaid it."

Sam paused. "What kind of favor?" It wasn't that he didn't trust Ruby, but... well, ultimately, she was a demon. And he'd never trusted Bela in life, let alone now that she was a damned soul, something halfway between a vengeful spirit and a demon. Dealing with the two of them separately was one thing. Discovering they knew each other and did _favors _for each other... that was quite another.

"Whatever you're thinking, it's not that," Ruby said with disgust. "If you must know, we ran into each other Below. She'd escaped from her chains and was looking for a way out. I pointed her in the right direction."

Sam nodded thoughtfully. It fitted with what little Dean had said about what he'd picked up from Bela, and went some way towards explaining how Bela had made it out. "So she decided to repay you by telling you that we're looking into a Seal here? Why would she think you'd be interes- " Sam cut himself off, because there was only one explanation.

"College boy finally figured it out," Ruby said, taking in the look on his face.

"This is the Seal," Sam said slowly. "The Seal your sister told you about. The Seal you've been trying to protect."

Ruby's eyes were very dark. "The Seal moves. It changes location according to a complicated pattern. My sister was very powerful, powerful enough to sense the changes. And she lived for a very long time: long enough to figure out the pattern. Right now it's here, yes."

"You said Lilith didn't know about it," Sam said, watching her reaction closely. "You said it was secret."

Ruby glared, though he didn't think it was him she was angry at this time. "I don't know how she found it, not yet. But I'm going to find out. It's possible she simply stumbled across it. I haven't told anyone the pattern of how it shifts, but if she was in the right place at the right time, she would have sensed it. It's not important now. Now I have to stop anyone from breaking the Seal."

"You know the angel's trapped in it," Sam said.

"Bela told me," Ruby said. "It may help. He may be able to hold Lilith off if she tries to open the Seal again. It's an extra layer of protection."

Sam paused. He understood what she meant, but... "He's _trapped_. She managed to trap him among the protections and he can't get out."

"And you want to set him free or something?" Ruby said incredulously. "You're losing it, Sam."

"What, you think we should just leave him there for all eternity?" Sam asked, equally incredulous.

"This isn't a human being we're talking about here, Sam," Ruby insisted. "He's an _angel_. Protecting the Seals is what they _do_. It's practically their reason for existing. It's for the greater good -"

Sam snorted, remembering the argument between Dean and Uriel the day before, his brother telling the angel that he had a lot in common with Ruby when it came to focusing solely on the big picture. It had pissed Uriel off, but Dean hadn't exactly been wrong.

"Did you speak to him?" Ruby asked. "Because I'm sure he wasn't exactly begging to be set free, was he?"

Sam sighed. "No. No, he wasn't."

Ruby nodded. "As I say - it's not like he's human."

Sam sat down on the edge of one of the beds. "There's no way to free him without breaking the Seal?" he asked quietly.

"It can't be done," Ruby said, just as quietly. "The Seal has its own protections. My sister added more over the years, but they're still tied into the Seal itself. Even if it's only those ones trapping him, there's no way to break through them without opening the Seal. The smart thing to do would be to add more protections: Lilith must have shattered a lot of the old ones to get as close as she did."

Sam pressed a hand to his forehead. "Fuck."

Ruby sat down on the other bed, facing him. "Why does it bother you so much? You know what angels are like, now. You know they're no better than demons when they get going. You saw what Uriel tried to do yesterday. Who cares if this one's trapped?"

Sam took a deep breath and tried to sort through his tangled feelings. "Dean says they aren't all the same. He likes Castiel, I think, more than Uriel, at least. I mean, I don't exactly like demons -"

"Thanks," Ruby said drily.

"But they're not all the same either, you're proof of that," Sam continued, ignoring her interruption. "Maybe it's the same with angels."

Ruby made a face, but nodded.

"So... no, I don't like thinking of him being trapped like that, forever," Sam said quietly. "Even if it's something an angel just accepts - yeah, it bothers me."

"Okay," Ruby said. "Okay, I can understand that. I don't agree, but I get it. But Sam - it's not like there's an alternative here. There's no way to break the protections without breaking the Seal too."

"Are you really sure?" Sam asked, and kept going despite the way Ruby rolled her eyes. "No, seriously - did your sister leave you any notes or anything that might help us figure things out? I mean, how did Lilith manage to trap him inside the protections in the first place? If she managed to push him through, maybe there's a way to free him again."

Ruby sighed. "Sam..."

"Look, if there really isn't a way, then fine," Sam said, starting to get annoyed. "But Dean's not going to just accept that unless it's absolutely certain there's no other option. And neither am I."

"Everything my sister left me, all her notes - I know them all by heart, Sam," Ruby told him. "I've spent centuries studying them, okay? I'm not lying to you on this - there's nothing in her notes to tell us how to break the protections without breaking the Seal."

"That still doesn't answer the question of how Lilith managed to trap him there," Sam insisted. It wasn't that he didn't believe her - he could hear the tone of weary truth in her voice - but it didn't quite make sense to him.

Ruby looked at him for a long moment.

"I can't say for sure how she did it, not without seeing the Seal," she said finally. "I wasn't there when she did it, I can't give you any definite answers. But if you really want, I'll come with you and take a look. If I can see exactly which protections are still in place, I might be able to figure some of it out."

Sam hesitated. "Is that safe? Is it safe you even being here? I don't think Uriel's your biggest fan right now - I mean, I guess you can tell him about the Seal now, but I don't know if he'll hold off long enough to listen."

Ruby gave a twisted smile and pulled something small out of her pocket, holding it up for him to see.

"A hex bag," Sam said, recognizing the bundle.

"Heavy-duty protection," Ruby said. "Nothing can find me while I'm carrying it - not demons, not angels."

Sam raised his eyebrows. "Useful."

"I had a lot of motivation to find a way of hiding," Ruby said. "It won't help me if there's an angel standing in front of me, but it'll stop them from tracking me down."

Sam nodded, and looked at her seriously. "Thanks, Ruby."

Ruby dropped the hex bag back into her pocket and stood up. "Let's get this over with."

* * *

It was different, entering the abandoned warehouse and knowing what to expect. Dean kept his gun close at hand nonetheless, not stupid enough to assume there was no danger. But his quick check of the rest of the building turned up nothing new, so he headed for the room where Castiel was trapped.

The angel was standing in the middle of the circle of unscorched floor, watching the door as Dean entered.

"Hope you've not been standing around all this time," Dean said lightly, crossing the room. "Can't be comfortable."

Castiel took the question seriously. "No. I stood when I sensed your approach. I understand this is a form of politeness, among humans."

Dean couldn't help but snort at that one. "Politeness? You're kidding me, right? Because believe me, you could do to start smaller. You know: knock on doors, not vanish in mid-conversation, that kind of thing."

"Politeness is perhaps not the most appropriate word," Castiel said thoughtfully. "Respect may be more accurate."

"If you say so," Dean muttered skeptically. He looked down at the burnt floor and sat down gingerly. Castiel lowered himself into a kneeling position inside the circle.

"So you felt me coming," Dean said. "Can you pick up on a lot of what's happening outside of here?"

Castiel seemed to consider the question. "I can hear my brothers speaking. I can sense something of what is happening to you. I am aware of a certain amount of what happens near here, or things which are more distant if I have a connection to them."

Dean frowned at him. "You're eavesdropping on me?"

"I am aware of what is happening to you, within certain limits," Castiel corrected him.

"Yeah, that's not creepy," Dean muttered. A thought struck him. "So was it you who kept Uriel from smiting me?"

Castiel looked down at the floor, a curiously human gesture. "Uriel means well -"

"He tried to _smite _me," Dean repeated.

"You judge him by human standards," Castiel said more firmly. "You are angry when he does not conform to your idea of what is correct. But he is not human, Dean."

"Oh, so it's one standard for you lot and another for us?" Dean said, starting to get annoyed. "That's not hypocritical at all."

"You misunderstand," Castiel said. "We must look at the bigger picture, always. It is our task to consider the greater good. That is our purpose. If we do not, we will fail: the Seals will open, and Lucifer will walk free. It's not always possible for us to show mercy, or act in the way that would be best for a single human being, because we must act in the best interest of all humanity."

Dean stared at him. "Are you trying to tell me Uriel's really just a swell guy when you get to know him? Assuming he doesn't kill you before that happens?"

Something like a smile tugged at the corners of Castiel's mouth. "You could put it like that. Uriel has not had a great deal of contact with humans, and what he has had... has mostly shown him your darker side. Try to have patience with him. With time he may come to like humanity more, and to seem more likable to you. He means well, even if that is not always apparent from a human perspective."

"Means well," Dean muttered. "He did try to _kill me_."

"He believed it was necessary to protect a Seal," Castiel reminded him. "Though he may have acted too hastily."

Dean shook his head. "See, that's the thing. You angels just don't seem to give a damn about people. Yeah, the greater good, I get it. But how do you know what you're doing is for the greater good? You keep telling me you're not omniscient. What makes you more than self-righteous assholes?"

"Faith," Castiel said softly. "Our orders come from our Father. His plan is just."

Dean shook his head again, staring away across the room. "Yeah, I figured that's what you'd say." This wasn't getting them anywhere. He already understood where the angels were coming from; he just thought it was bullshit. "You never answered my question - was it you who stopped Uriel?" he asked, turning the subject back.

"Indirectly," Castiel admitted. "You carry my mark on your soul. It gives you a degree of protection."

It was tempting to reach up and touch the mark on his shoulder, but Dean stayed still. _My mark on your soul_... He guessed he'd known, on some level, that it hadn't really been his shoulder that Castiel had grabbed to drag him out of Hell, but somehow he'd still always thought of the hand-print as being on his skin, not a reflection of a mark on his soul.

"Well. Thanks for that, I guess," he said finally, still a bit weirded out.

"No thanks are needed," Castiel said evenly.

Dean thought. He wanted to know about the Seal and the protections on it, the details of exactly how Castiel was trapped, but he was pretty sure the angel wouldn't want to tell him. Better to work up to it, maybe.

"So," he said, casting around for another topic. "You're pretty much just sitting around here all day?"

Castiel met his eyes but remained silent, clearly not feeling that required a response. Dean guessed it was a fair point.

"Must be boring," he said. "I suppose I can deal with you eavesdropping on me, it's probably the most excitement you can get from in there. How much have you seen?"

"Enough," Castiel said.

Dean nodded, accepting that. "Guess you know Bela's back, then, huh? You know who she is, right?"

The angel tilted his head to the side, looking thoughtful. "I saw her possess you. She escaped from Perdition."

"She seems to think you helped her," Dean said. "Though she's under the impression it was by accident. I'm not so sure about that, myself."

Castiel ignored that, not that Dean had really expected a straight-out answer. "She seeks vengeance."

"Yeah, well, so would I, in her shoes," Dean said roughly.

"She may still have a part to play in defeating Lilith," Castiel said quietly. "There is one piece of advice you could pass on, if you see her again."

Dean felt his eyebrows shoot up.

"Remind her that Lilith is a stronger demon that she could ever become," the angel said. "That is a path which will not save her. She would be wiser to build on what makes her different to Lilith: that is where her strength lies."

Dean waited, but Castiel seemed to be done. "Okay, fine. If I see her, I'll be sure to pass that along. I wouldn't hold your breath, though."

Castiel didn't respond, and Dean cast around for another topic. "So, if you saw her possessing me... I'm guessing you also saw what Sam did."

He was more than a little nervous about bringing it up, but it had been weighing on his mind, and damned if he knew who else he could ask about it. It wasn't like Castiel could smite Sam while he was trapped, at least.

"He used his abilities against you," Castiel stated evenly.

"Not _against _me," Dean said, because okay, that wasn't fair. "He was trying to help me, force her out. He didn't know it was Bela."

Castiel met his gaze, not commenting on that, and Dean stamped down on his irritation.

"It was..." he started, then ground to a halt, trying to find the words for it. "After everything you said, what you showed me about where it came from, I thought it would be... dark. But it wasn't. It was like light."

Castiel looked away, and Dean watched him.

"What does that mean?" Dean asked finally, when it became clear the angel wasn't about to volunteer any response.

"Nothing more and nothing less than it is," Castiel said at last. "'Light' is not the same as 'good', Dean. Lilith kills with light. Lucifer is known as the Light-Bringer."

Dean swallowed hard and looked away. He hadn't fully realized how much his hopes had been raised until Castiel had crushed them again. He'd subconsciously started to think that maybe Sam's powers weren't really dark, that maybe...

"Don't despair," Castiel said quietly. "Light may not be the same as 'good', but nor is it the same as 'evil', Dean. It is neither in and of itself. When I told you that Sam was walking a dangerous path, I was telling you the truth. But I was also telling the truth when I said we did not know where it would lead."

Dean frowned. "What are you talking about?"

Castiel leaned forward, lacing his hands together, almost as if in prayer. "It is not impossible for Sam to use his abilities for good. Difficult, given their origin, but not impossible. But it is something we consider an unwise risk. We believe the potential benefit of him being able to use his abilities for good is outweighed by the danger of what could happen instead."

Dean stared. "So you threatened to _kill _him? Because you were afraid of the risk?"

He was angry about that, but it was somewhat overshadowed by the relief he felt. If there was even the slightest possibility that using his abilities might not do something awful... well, Sam was the most stubborn person Dean knew. Pretty much the best person he knew, too. Sam would be okay.

"The risk should not be underestimated," Castiel warned him. "The abilities Sam has can be addictive. Many of the other children with demon blood began using them with the best of intentions, and found themselves slipping down a dark path."

Dean shook his head. "It's not like I'm going to walk out of here and tell him to exorcise every demon he runs across with his mind, Cas. I get it, okay? But excuse me for being relieved to hear he _does _have a choice in the matter and isn't doomed to go darkside or whatever."

"All humans have choice and free will," Castiel said quietly. "Including Sam."

Dean nodded jerkily and took a deep breath, forcing his emotions back under control. "What about angels?" he asked, trying to move the conversation to less painful territory. "I'm guessing you don't have the whole free will thing."

Castiel shook his head. "No. Our place is to obey our orders. Our choices are very limited."

"And that doesn't bother you?" Dean asked. It was hard to imagine, really. He hadn't forgotten what Castiel had said just a few days before - _When your father gave you an order, did you not obey?_ \- but he couldn't help feeling there was a difference. He'd always had the choice of whether or not to obey, even if it hadn't been much of a choice.

"It is the nature of things," Castiel said simply. "Ask me your real question, Dean."

Dean wasn't even surprised. "This." He waved a hand to take in the entire situation - Castiel, the trap, everything. "You said before there's no way of freeing you. You're okay with that? I mean - just sitting here for eternity?"

Castiel looked down at the floor. "It is not my first preference, I won't deny that. There are things I would... miss. But I am an angel. I can be content, even here, knowing that what I am doing serves my Father's purpose."

"Content," Dean said. "Right."

He'd wanted to find some way to work up to asking about the protections trapping Castiel, but he was pretty sure now that it wouldn't make the angel any more likely to answer. It wasn't the kind of thing Castiel would let slip, either. It was hard to con information out of someone who could see right through you.

"Tell me about the protections," he said finally, coming right out with it.

"Why?" Castiel asked, looking at him curiously.

Dean glared at him. "Because I want to find a way to get you out of there."

Castiel didn't look away from his glare. "I have told you that I'm content."

"Yeah, so you keep saying," Dean said, feeling his anger give way to weariness. "But I don't leave people behind if I can help it. If there's a way to free you, I want to find it."

"There is not," Castiel said quietly.

"You know how good I am at taking shit on faith," Dean said. "Let me check it out for myself."

Castiel frowned, as if he'd only just understood something. "It bothers you."

Dean gritted his teeth. "No shit. Are you going to tell me now?"

Castiel continued to stare at him in silence for a moment, before he finally spoke again. "The protections are woven into the Seal. They are anchored too deeply to be removed without breaking it."

"You said Lilith weakened them," Dean said.

"There were many layers of protection," Castiel said patiently. "The outermost layers were not locked into the Seal, and she removed them completely. Then there were layers which were woven only loosely into the Seal, and she removed them also, damaging the Seal in the process. The last layers are bound up closely with the Seal. Those layers she weakened while we were fighting. Weakened until they almost shattered."

"She weakened them to the point where she managed to warp their course and tangle them around Castiel," another voice said.

Uriel was standing on the opposite side of the circle from where Castiel was kneeling. He was looking at Castiel, not Dean, but Dean caught his breath anyway. He really hadn't wanted to run into Uriel again any time soon.

"The remaining protections are fragile," Uriel continued. "They will break at the slightest pressure. He could free himself easily, but the protections would break too; and the Seal is already damaged from the outer protections being ripped out. If these protections break, the Seal will open."

Uriel raised his head and looked right at Dean. "There is nothing to be done. You should not be here."

Dean stood up slowly. Not that he thought it would do him much good if Uriel tried anything, but he didn't like the angel looking down at him. "Yeah, well. Considering you told me he was dead, forgive me for not taking your word for things."

"Dean," Castiel said softly. "Uriel is telling the truth. There is nothing to be done."

"Where is the witch-demon?" Uriel demanded, walking slowly around the circle towards Dean.

Dean held his ground. Damned if he was going to back away from the asshole. "How the hell should I know? You knocked me out for hours, so it's not exactly like I had a chance to keep track of her."

Uriel came closer. "Your time would be better spent tracking her down than sitting around here."

Out of the corner of his eye, Dean caught sight of Castiel bowing his head, and suddenly he was furious.

"I know you don't give a flying fuck about any of us humans," he said, glaring at Uriel. "We're all just mud-monkeys to you. I get that. But for some reason I thought you might give a damn about _him_. When you told us he was lost, I thought you..." He snorted mirthlessly. "Guess I was wrong."

Uriel didn't bother crossing the distance between them; one moment he was still ten feet away, and the next he was right in front of Dean. Before Dean could react, Uriel had grabbed him by the throat, lifting him off the ground, much like he had Ruby.

"You understand _nothing_," Uriel hissed.

"Uriel," Dean heard Castiel say. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see that the other angel was standing now, close to the near edge of the circle, his eyes blazing blue.

"How would you feel if it were your brother?" Uriel hissed, ignoring Castiel. "The brother you had loved for thousands of years. How would you feel knowing he was trapped down _here _for eternity, while your family dies all around you?"

Dean fought for breath. "I wouldn't just give up."

Uriel glared at him, his dark eyes boring into Dean's, filling up his vision. "_No more am I_."

"_Uriel_," Castiel said again sharply.

Uriel abruptly released him, and Dean staggered as he hit the ground, catching his balance. Uriel gave him another glare, then turned back to Castiel. The two angels simply looked at each other for a moment, and then Uriel was gone.

Dean let out a shuddering breath, but held back from saying the insult on the tip of his tongue, because something of what Uriel had said had hit a chord. Even if Uriel had been right about him not understanding anything, Dean recognized that anger and frustration.

He met Castiel's eyes, and didn't know what to say.

* * *

"Stay close, or the hex bag won't hide you," Ruby said.

"Castiel's going to see you anyway once we get inside," Sam pointed out.

"Better safe than sorry," Ruby said evenly.

"Fine," Sam said with a shrug. "This way."

They were at the top of the stairs when they heard Dean's voice, raised and angry. "...Forgive me for not taking your word for things."

Sam hesitated at the door. Maybe it wasn't a good idea for Ruby to go in there, if Dean had been antagonizing the angel again. He glanced across at Ruby, who was staring at the door, her eyes distant, like she was trying to figure something out. Suddenly her eyes widened, and she reached out and grabbed his wrist, pulling him back. Sam was about to ask her what was wrong when he heard another voice.

"Where is the witch-demon?"

_Uriel_.

Sam gestured frantically to Ruby that she should disappear, but oddly, she looked less panicked now than she had a minute before. _He doesn't know we're here_, she mouthed, pressing a hand to the pocket where she'd put the hex bag.

Sam looked from her to the door and back again. Even if she was right, sticking around seemed like a dangerous idea, knowing Uriel was looking for her. On the other hand, he really didn't want to leave Dean alone with Uriel either. Uriel had tried to _smite_ him just the other day, and Sam didn't put it past his brother to provoke him into trying again. Castiel might be there, but it wasn't like he was in a position to get between them.

Ruby nodded to him reassuringly and moved back to the door. Sam went with her, leaning forward until he could peer through the keyhole.

What he saw almost made him run straight in. Uriel had one hand around Dean's throat, was holding him up in the air like he had Ruby the day before. He was leaning in close to say something to Dean, too quiet for Sam to hear.

Ruby's hand tightened painfully around his wrist, holding him back. She was shaking her head frantically when he turned to demand that she release him. Sam ignored her, trying to shake off her grip, because _damned_ if he was going to stay back in safety and watch Uriel attack his brother.

_Not again._

Ruby was strong, though, and by the time Sam made it into the room, gun in hand, Uriel had vanished. Dean was standing up, looking only a little unsteady on his feet, staring at Castiel. He swung round when Sam burst in.

"Sam?"

"Are you okay?" Sam demanded, slowing to a less frantic speed as he crossed the room to his brother.

"Fine," Dean said briefly. "I thought you were going -" He cut off, looking towards the door, and Sam didn't need to glance back to know Ruby had just walked in.

"Hi, Dean," she said lightly.

Dean's eyes widened. "I don't think this is a smart place for you to be right now, Ruby, 'less you've got a death wish I don't know about." He shot a glance in Castiel's direction, and Sam followed his gaze. The angel's face was unreadable.

"She's here to help," Sam said hastily, not sure whether he was addressing Dean or Castiel. "This is the Seal she knows about, the one her sister was protecting..."

Dean's attention swung immediately to Ruby. "_This_ one? You know how to take down the protections on it?"

Ruby walked slowly forward, and Sam could see from the wary glances she was shooting at Castiel how nervous she was. "I told Sam already - I don't think it can be done. But I said I'd take a look, just in case."

"Then look," Dean said. He looked back across at Castiel again. "Is Uriel going to know she's here? Because I don't want him smiting her when she's just trying to help you, you know?"

Sam still couldn't decipher Castiel's expression, but the angel said, "I presume the magic she worked to prevent him from sensing her is still in effect. And I have... not yet informed Uriel that she's here."

The tone of his voice didn't tell Sam much either, but judging by the half-grin Dean shot in Castiel's direction and the way the tension eased out of his shoulders, his brother thought it was a good thing.

"Okay, so," Sam said, looking back at Ruby now it seemed no one was in immediate danger of having some kind of angelic smackdown laid on them. "Ruby, what do you need?"

"Nothing," Ruby said. She walked closer to the circle of unscorched floor, studying the edge of it, seeming to examine the air as well. She stayed away from the edge where Castiel was standing, focusing on the other sections of the circle instead.

"Well?" Dean said after a minute, his voice impatient.

Sam touched his brother's arm, a reminder that he was there and a warning to cool down, and was relieved when Dean shifted subtly closer instead of away.

Ruby finally looked up, glancing at Castiel for a split-second before looking hastily away and meeting Sam's gaze instead. "It's not good."

"You can't do anything?" Sam asked, mentally cursing as he felt Dean tense beneath his hand again.

"These aren't protections thrown up by the angels during the fight," Ruby said, with another darting glance at Castiel. "They're part of the Seal, pretty much. They're tangled round him, and they're too weak - if we try to do anything to them, they'll break and take the Seal with them."

"That's what Uriel said too," Dean muttered. Sam could see the tension in his jaw.

"Will you accept it now, Dean?" Castiel asked quietly.

Dean's eyes snapped back up to look at him, but he didn't say anything.

"There's something else, though," Ruby interrupted.

She looked paler, Sam thought with a growing sense of dread. "What?" he asked.

"I told you that this Seal shifts, didn't I?" she said, looking at the circle again, as if double-checking something.

Sam stared at her. "It's going to move again?"

Ruby nodded, still staring at the circle. "Not right now, but soon. A few weeks, maybe."

Castiel tilted his head, as if deep in thought.

"What does that mean?" Dean demanded. "What happens when it moves?"

Ruby looked up again and met Sam's eyes. "The Seal's already damaged. It might break open when it moves."

_Shit_, Sam thought. "Is there any way we can stop it?"

Ruby looked at the circle again. "We can try to patch the protections, replace the ones Lilith removed. Maybe we can shore it up enough."

The 'maybe' didn't exactly fill Sam with confidence. "Will that work?"

"It has to work," Ruby said bluntly.

"If the Seal breaks," Dean said slowly, "will that set Castiel free?"

"We cannot afford to let it break, Dean," Castiel said calmly. He looked at Ruby, then at Sam. "I will speak to Uriel. He has been holding off on adding new layers of protection to the Seal, but we had no information on when it was likely to move until now."

"Won't that be like sealing you in?" Dean said bluntly.

"It's the only way," Castiel replied quietly. He looked at Sam again. "I suggest you all leave now. Uriel is not well-disposed to your... friend. And I must speak with him."

Sam held his ground. "You're going to need Ruby's help with the protections."

"Tomorrow," Castiel said, and turned to address Ruby directly at last. "If you are willing to help us?"

Sam couldn't help but smile a little at Ruby's shocked expression, despite the situation.

"It's not you I want to help," she said, raising her head proudly. "I promised someone I'd protect this Seal."

Castiel nodded gravely, and looked at Dean. Sam looked too. Dean was still tense, the line of his jaw set. He was watching the angel intently.

"Tomorrow," Dean said finally, and turned away, pulling away from Sam's touch to walk to the door. Ruby wasted no time in following him, and with one last glance at the trapped angel, Sam went after his brother.

* * *

Dean couldn't sleep.

For once, it wasn't dreams of Hell that haunted him. Not that they were gone; he could feel them lurking at the back of his mind, waiting. He had other things to worry about, that was all.

He couldn't stop thinking about Castiel, trapped with the Seal. In some ways, he could almost imagine what it must be like. He remembered the feeling of helplessness that came from knowing that this was it, no escape, no get-out clause. The knowledge that this was for eternity.

Okay, so Castiel wasn't being tortured, wasn't trapped in Hell. It wasn't the same. But Dean still hated the idea.

And tomorrow, they were going to bind him in tighter, take away what little chance of escape he had.

Beside him, Sam sighed a little in his sleep, and Dean watched his brother's face for a long moment before slipping out of bed.

He dressed quickly, quiet so as not to wake Sam, and scribbled a quick note - _Need air, back soon, don't worry_ \- then grabbed his keys and headed for the door.

Outside, the air was sharp and cold against his skin. Dean pulled his jacket a little tighter around himself and slid into his car.

Driving helped, always, a soothing series of routines that demanded just enough of his attention. He drove without a destination in mind, just trying to get his mind to quiet down.

He was thinking of Uriel now, for some reason. He kept remembering the look in the angel's eyes when Uriel had asked him how he'd feel if _his _brother were trapped there. Yeah, Uriel was still a dick, but Dean was starting to think that maybe the angel was the same kind of dick that he was himself.

_I wouldn't just give up._

No more am I.

He was starting to wonder, now, whether Uriel had already known this was the Seal Ruby knew about when he'd used them to set a trap for her. It might explain a thing or two.

Dean belatedly realized he'd been driving on autopilot for a while. But when he looked around, he somehow wasn't all that surprised to see that he'd ended up near the abandoned warehouse.

He wondered if angels could sleep.

Unsurprisingly, Castiel wasn't asleep. The angel was kneeling in the center of the circle again, and this time he didn't stand when Dean walked in.

"Don't respect me any more, huh?" Dean asked lightly, but felt his attempt at humor fall flat.

"You said you did not wish me to stand," Castiel said. "I respect your wishes."

Dean huffed out a laugh and crossed the room to sit in the same spot where he'd sat earlier that day.

"You should be sleeping," Castiel said.

"Couldn't sleep," Dean said briefly. "Did you speak to Uriel?"

Castiel shifted position slightly to face him properly. "I did. He will begin adding new protections to the Seal tomorrow."

Dean raised an eyebrow. "Thought he'd want to start at once." And yet, thinking about it, he wasn't really surprised that Uriel had chosen to delay a little longer. It fitted.

"He has been delayed by other matters," Castiel said. "You are troubled."

Dean rubbed his forehead. "One word for it. Aren't you?"

"There are many things which concern me," Castiel admitted. "But as I told you, I am content."

"I don't like this," Dean said abruptly. He hadn't known he was going to say it until he heard the words come out of his mouth, but it was the truth.

Castiel tilted his head to the side, studying him, but said nothing.

Dean pushed back to his feet, suddenly unable to sit still. He paced back and forth in front of the circle, feeling Castiel's eyes on him the entire time.

"I mean," he said, "you act like it's _nothing _that you're trapped here like this. Like that's just fine. Like your life isn't important."

"It's not," Castiel said quietly. "The purpose of my existence is to serve. This is one way of doing so."

Dean shook his head angrily, still pacing. "Bullshit. Lilith's attacking Seals, angels are dying left, right and center, and there aren't enough to protect them -"

"Which makes it all the more important to protect this one," Castiel said.

"But it leaves all the other Seals you might ever have protected defenseless," Dean pointed out. "And this one might break anyway."

That was what made it all seem so goddamn pointless. The Seal might break when it shifted anyway. Lilith might come back to finish off the job, and Dean wasn't sure Castiel would be able to stop her. And even if she didn't... there were plenty of other Seals out there. Even if they held this Seal forever, that wouldn't be enough to stop her.

"You need to look at the bigger picture, Dean," Castiel said.

"So you keep telling me," Dean said with a hint of bitterness. The angels never seemed to think about anything other than the bigger picture, the greater good. And Dean got that, especially after what Castiel had said to him earlier. It was how they were made, it was what they did.

But it wasn't what Dean did.

He couldn't see the future. He didn't know what the bigger picture was, and he was hardly in a position to judge what the greater good was. All he could do was look at the situation in front of him.

_It was a test._

You will have more decisions to make.

He stopped pacing, and turned to face Castiel, whose face was changing, showing a rare glimpse of emotion. Alarm.

"Dean -" Castiel said, even managing to sound alarmed.

Dean didn't apologize, didn't say anything at all, just crossed the few remaining feet to the circle of unscorched floor.

"Dean, _no_!" Castiel rushed forward as if to stop him, but there was nothing he could do, and they both knew it.

There was a sensation of pressure as Dean stepped forward, crossed the line into the circle, like he was trying to push his way into a bubble. Then he felt it give way.

And the world exploded into light.

* * *

It was still dark when Sam opened his eyes. For a moment he didn't know what had woken him, and then he became aware of the empty space beside him. He sat bolt upright, taking in the empty room, but before he could start panicking too much, he noticed the note on the table beside him, scribbled on cheap motel notepaper. _Need air, back soon, don't worry._

Don't worry. Yeah, right.

He scrubbed a hand across his eyes. He hadn't been stupid enough to think that Dean's issues were gone just because they'd started sleeping together again; sex didn't cure everything, no matter what Dean might jokingly claim. But his brother had seemed somewhat better for the past few nights: he'd gone to bed with Sam and at least appeared to have stayed there, even if he hadn't slept the whole night.

And now he was gone.

Sam slid out of bed and went to the bathroom to splash water on his face, trying to avoid meeting his worried eyes in the mirror, then went back out to the main room and started getting dressed. He didn't know how long Dean had been gone before he'd woken up, but he didn't like it.

He tugged on his shoes, then opened the door and stepped out, looking around. His hopes that Dean was simply sitting outside were dashed immediately when he saw that the Impala was gone. Dean had probably gone for a drive, then. A bar was unlikely if he'd taken the car - there were plenty of places his brother could have gone within walking distance, and Dean didn't normally risk driving if he'd had more than one or two drinks. Then again, Dean's attitude towards alcohol had changed significantly since he'd come back. Sam got that, and he didn't want to deny his brother anything that helped him to deal with what he'd been through, but it still worried him.

So, maybe a bar. Or just a drive. Either way, Sam was going to lose it if he just sat around waiting for his brother to come back. He pulled out his cell instead and hit the speed dial for Dean.

It rang and rang, and Sam started pacing, unable to stay still. "Come on, come on," he muttered, only to hang up with a muttered curse as Dean's voicemail kicked in.

It wasn't like Dean not to answer his phone, even in the middle of the night, even if he needed space. He knew damn well that Sam worried about him. If he wasn't answering, that meant he wasn't _able_ to answer.

By the time he'd checked the parking lots of the three nearest bars and found no trace of the Impala or Dean, Sam had decided that his brother probably hadn't been heading to a bar. Which meant he could be anywhere.

Or he'd gone back to speak to Castiel again.

The moment the thought occurred to Sam, he was sure that was what Dean had done. His brother hadn't been happy about Castiel being trapped, and even less at finding out there was nothing they could do about it. So maybe Dean had decided to go back and talk to the angel again, without Ruby or Uriel or even Sam around. But that didn't explain why he wasn't answering his cell.

Sam looked around, discarding the thought of a cab almost at once, and checked out the cars in the parking lot instead. Twenty minutes later, he was pulling into the parking lot outside the warehouse, relieved to see that the Impala was there. He'd guessed right, at least. Now he just needed to find Dean, and rip him a new one for not answering his cell.

He couldn't fight off the feeling that was something was wrong, though, and it made him take the stairs two at a time. The warehouse was silent, no sound of voices as he approached the door, and Sam shoved it open without hesitating.

Dean was lying crumpled in the center of the room.

Sam ran to his brother's side, unable to breathe until he'd found a pulse. "Jesus," he whispered, and shook his brother gently. "Dean. Hey, Dean! C'mon, wake up."

He looked around, taking in the rest of the scene for the first time. There was no sign of Castiel, or the circle where the angel had been trapped; the floor was scorched right across, with no sign that the place where Dean was lying had once been unmarked.

Sam refocused on his brother, relieved that Dean didn't seem to have suffered any burns. He checked him out quickly, looking for injuries, but he couldn't find anything. Dean simply seemed to be unconscious, but considering something major had obviously gone down, that was hardly reassuring.

"He did it."

Sam looked up sharply, relaxing slightly when he saw Ruby standing in the doorway. She was staring at the place where the circle of unscorched floor had been.

"What the fuck happened here, Ruby?" he demanded.

He couldn't help but flinch slightly at the look in her eyes when she turned her gaze on him. Ruby was angrier than he'd ever seen her.

"Your goddamn _brother_ is what happened here," Ruby said, walking slowly towards them. Sam resisted the instinctive urge to put himself between her and his unconscious brother. "He broke the Seal."

"_What_?" Sam said. "He wouldn't have done -" He paused mid-word, though, suddenly less sure. He remembered again how much Dean had disliked the idea of Castiel being trapped there, remembered him asking whether the angel would be freed if the Seal was opened.

"Oh, but he did," Ruby said, her voice quiet and deadly. "I thought at first that the Seal might have shifted earlier than I'd expected, but it didn't. He broke it. He actually _broke_ it. I didn't think he was particularly smart, but I've got to say, I never realized he was _that_ much of a moron."

Sam winced. "If he did it, I'm sure he had his reasons."

"Reasons?" Ruby repeated, raising her voice at last. "Oh, yeah, I'm sure he _did_, Sam. Reasons? What reason could possibly justify doing Lilith's work for her? He's been to Hell, he knows what it's like - what reason could possibly be good enough to excuse what he's done?"

She looked at Dean with such fury and hatred that Sam straightened unconsciously, half expecting an attack. He might not know what exactly his brother had done, or why, but he did know he wasn't about to let Ruby hurt him.

"My sister trusted me to protect this Seal," Ruby said, her voice quiet again, but no less angry. "And he broke it like it was nothing."

"You don't know that," Sam said, just as quietly. "You weren't here. You don't know how it went down. Just because you can't think of a good enough reason, that doesn't mean he didn't have one."

Ruby shook her head bitterly and turned away. "Tell him he'd better get over his precious conscience, fast. This is a _war_. If he doesn't like the prices we have to pay, then he shouldn't be playing. He needs to start paying attention to the bigger picture, or he may as well go join Lilith, for all the help he is to us. We can't afford weaknesses like that."

She paused at the door and looked back over her shoulder. "It's almost funny, really. The angels all seem to think you're the dangerous one, that you're going to just turn around at some point and start working with Lilith. And instead their precious Dean is the one opening Seals. Shows how much they know, huh?"

Sam just looked at her.

"Knock some sense into him, Sam, fast," Ruby said finally. "Or I'll take great pleasure in doing so." Then she was gone.

Sam stared at the place where she'd been standing, then down at his brother, running a hand gently across his cheek. Dean didn't stir, and Sam bit his lip. He didn't know what to think, but first things first. Time to get his brother back to the motel.

* * *

It was almost morning before Dean finally stirred. Sam hadn't been able to set aside his worry enough to sleep, not when his brother was still unconscious and Sam didn't completely understand why or how long it might last. Instead he lay on his side next to Dean, watching him.

The sky outside was shifting slowly to gray when Dean opened his eyes, blinking hazily at his surroundings. Sam leaned over at once, touching his brother's face. "Hey. You back with me?"

Dean squinted at him. "Sammy? Wha-" He cut off, eyes widening, and Sam figured he'd just remembered what had happened.

"We're back at the motel," Sam said quietly. "You've been out for hours. What happened?"

He wasn't sure what he expected Dean to say. Ruby had seemed completely certain in her interpretation of what had happened, but she had to be wrong. Or at the very least there must have been some kind of extenuating circumstances, because no way would Dean have broken a Seal. Not without a damn good reason.

So despite what Ruby had told him, it was a shock when Dean met his eyes and said quietly, "I broke the Seal."

Sam took a long, careful breath. "Why?" he asked, as neutrally as he could.

Dean scrubbed a hand over his face. "Seemed like the right thing to do," he said after a moment.

"The right thing to do?" Sam said incredulously. "Breaking a _Seal_?"

"Come on, Sam," Dean said. "It was as good as gone anyway. If it hadn't broken when it shifted - and considering how easy it was to break it, I'm not sold on that - Lilith knew about it, and she would have gone for it."

"Castiel could have held her off," Sam objected.

Dean shook his head. "He's good, but I don't think he's _that_ good, or we wouldn't have this apocalypse thing going on in the first place. She'd have broken the Seal and killed him too."

"You don't know that," Sam said.

Dean looked at him, _really_ looked at him. "No, Sammy, I don't. But the thing is, neither do you, and neither do the angels, or anyone fucking else for that matter. No one really knows. We just choose the best we can."

"You broke a Seal, Dean," Sam said. He still couldn't get his head round it. "They only need to open 66, and you just handed them one."

"Maybe," Dean said quietly. "Way I see it, they had it already; I just made sure they didn't get to take Castiel out of the equation too. But you could be right, Sam. It's not like I know what would have happened."

Sam looked down at the comforter, twisting his fingers in it. "Ruby was pissed," he said.

Dean snorted mirthlessly. "Yeah, I just bet she was. She's all about the big picture too - can't see her breaking a Seal to save an angel."

Sam shook his head. "I don't know that she's wrong, Dean." He met his brother's eyes again. "You didn't do it just to save Castiel, did you? There's something else you're not telling me."

Dean looked away, up at the ceiling. "He's an angel, Sam, and from what I hear we're running pretty low on them. Okay, we lost this Seal, but we probably would have anyway, and who knows how many other Seals he'll be able to protect -"

"I get that," Sam cut in, because he got that it was _a_ reason, but he was increasingly certain it wasn't the main one. He had a feeling Dean didn't want to admit the real reason even to himself. "But that's not all. Tell me, Dean."

Dean shut his eyes, like he was trying to block everything out, and Sam couldn't stop himself from reaching out, touching Dean's arm, his face. _I'm here_.

Dean was silent for a long moment, before he said roughly, "They all talk about the 'bigger picture'." He paused again. "But they never - I mean, you ever really thought about what that _means_?"

Sam stayed quiet, letting his brother explain in his own time.

"What it means," Dean said, his voice strained, eyes still closed, "what it means is saying, 'Hey, this person is expendable.' That they're not important, that it doesn't _matter_ if they die. So long as the end justifies the means. Uriel's got no problem with killing an entire fucking town if that saves a Seal. Ruby's fine with letting Castiel rot, or with whatever using your psychic shit's going to do to you, if that's what she thinks is needed. And -"

He swallowed hard, and Sam rubbed a thumb across his cheek. _Tell me_.

"I told you that I - remember," Dean said. "What it was like, Below. What they did to me." He swallowed again. "And what _I_ did."

Sam didn't want to interrupt, but he couldn't handle just lying there any longer, couldn't stand to stare at his brother's closed eyes and clenched fists. He rolled over and settled on top of Dean, bracing himself with his arms to keep from crushing him. He lowered his head to press his forehead against Dean's, and was surprised when his brother wound his arms around him, pulling Sam down against him.

Dean didn't open his eyes, and his voice was no more than a whisper when he said, "I can't - I can't do that again, Sam, I can't act like they're expendable, not if I don't want - I _can't_ -"

Sam didn't know what Dean had done in Hell, but he knew what humans became in Hell, and that was enough for him to suspect he probably couldn't even imagine it. He pressed his lips against Dean's forehead, his eyes, his cheeks, feeling Dean's fingers tighten desperately against his back.

"I've got you," Sam whispered, still pressing frantic kisses against Dean's face. "I've got you, Dean, it's okay, it's okay -"

Dean opened his eyes, lashes grazing against Sam's skin, and Sam pulled back just far enough to meet his gaze. Dean's eyes were dark with unshed tears, and Sam couldn't take it.

He kissed Dean, hard and possessive, trying to take all of his brother into himself, and Dean's mouth opened under his, hot and desperate, giving Sam everything. Sam couldn't stop touching him, running his hands everywhere he could reach, because Jesus, _Dean_. He couldn't let him go, not ever again, not _ever -_

Dean was shaking beneath him, hands still digging into Sam's back, and Sam knew it was half desperation from his confession, half _them_. Dean was kissing him frantically, with little broken-off moans against Sam's lips that he was pretty sure Dean wasn't aware he was making. But that was okay: Sam kept all his brother's secrets.

He wanted, more than anything, to be inside Dean, to _take_ his brother and make him his, drive everything else out, but it was all happening too fast, and he didn't think he could slow things down enough for that. Instead he reached down, sliding a hand inside his brother's shorts and running it up Dean's cock.

"_Sam_," Dean gasped against his lips.

"I've got you," Sam whispered again. "I've got you, Dean."

Dean shuddered again, and his hands seemed to come unfrozen from Sam's back, because suddenly he was unbuttoning Sam's shirt with shaking fingers, pushing it out of the way, then moving down to work on Sam's pants.

Sam fisted Dean's cock, feeling it jerk beneath his touch. Dean moaned again, and then Sam found himself suddenly breathless as Dean's hand reached him.

There was no finesse to it, just a frantic inability to stop touching each other. Sam pulled back from kissing Dean just for a second to breathe, and realized that Dean's eyes were closed again.

"Look at me," he murmured, hearing the break in his own voice. "Dean, open your eyes, look at me."

Dean moaned as Sam's thumb swept over the head of his cock, but he didn't open his eyes.

"Dean," Sam said breathlessly. He could feel himself getting close, but this was _important_, this _mattered_. "Dean, open your eyes, please, c'mon -"

Slowly, Dean opened his eyes, and Sam caught his breath, tightening his grip on Dean. Whatever he'd wanted to say to his brother was lost, but Dean didn't look away, and Sam thought maybe he got it anyway.

And then Dean gasped, arching against him, and Sam felt warm wetness spread against his hand. Sam couldn't help but kiss him, even though Dean was gasping for breath, moaning helplessly against his mouth.

_Jesus, **Dean**_ -

"Sammy," Dean whispered against his lips, and Sam didn't even hear himself groan as he came, deaf to everything but Dean's voice as he collapsed on top of his brother.

He knew, in an abstract kind of way, that he was heavy, that he ought to get off his brother and clean them both up, but Dean's hands were pressed tight against his back again, and so long as his brother wanted him there, Sam was going nowhere.

"Not sorry 'bout the Seal," Dean murmured finally, almost too low to be heard. Sam could feel his breath against his cheek.

Sam thought about what Ruby had said, about the war they were losing. He thought about the tone of Dean's voice when he'd spoken about the greater good and his time in Hell.

"Me neither," Sam said finally.

Dean sighed and turned his head, pressing his face against Sam's neck, his breath evening back out into sleep.


	6. Epilogue

Dean sat on the park bench, watching the children play. There was some sort of complicated game going on; he hadn't worked out the rules yet, but it involved a lot of running around and screaming with laughter.

Since his return from Below, he'd been drawn to places like this. They were a reminder that some things hadn't been tainted. And no one paid any attention to him here, which was the way he liked it.

He glanced around, and nearly jumped at the sight of Castiel sitting on the other end of the bench. He'd gotten over being surprised at the angel appearing out of nowhere a while back, but this time he had good cause. There had been no sign of Castiel since Dean had broken the Seal, weeks before, and Dean had started to be afraid that it might have killed the angel. Either that, or Castiel was so angry about it that he was avoiding him.

It was a relief to find that apparently it had been the latter. Dean had no particular problem with pissing off angels. Especially when it came to saving Castiel's life.

Castiel was watching the children intently, not looking at him. Dean let the silence continue for a while, before he finally said, "So. Come here often?"

The angel looked at him at last. "Why did you break the Seal?"

_Straight down to business, then_, Dean thought. "I wasn't just going to leave you trapped there."

Castiel's face was as unreadable as ever, but Dean thought there was an edge of discomfort in the angel's tone as he said, "I did not want -"

"I know that," Dean said, looking away. "You told me you were _content_, or whatever. But I still couldn't just leave you there." He took a deep breath. "You told me a while back that you didn't know what was right or wrong any more. You didn't know whether I'd passed that test or failed. How do you know this wasn't another test?"

Castiel looked away, towards the children playing in the park. "The last time, the lives of my Father's creations were at stake."

"And this time you were," Dean said.

Castiel looked at him again. "I am not human, Dean."

"No," Dean said, holding his gaze. "But I am."

Castiel stared at him for a long moment before slowly nodding. Dean gave him a half-smile and looked away again at the kids running around.

He was expecting the angel to be gone when he glanced back, but Castiel was still there, staring down at the ground as if deep in thought.

Dean smiled.


End file.
